


@k-baby

by WhatTheBodyGraspsNot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, college-student!lance, lance is bi, nsfw-blogger!keith, reoccurring top/bottom themes, side Hunk/Shay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-12 23:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 40,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16881654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot/pseuds/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot
Summary: Lance stumbles on a popular “bottom blogger” on tumblr who posts regular nsfw content. He instantly gets hooked, even though said blogger never responds to people’s comments or messages on his videos…until Lance comments, that is.





	1. Chapter 1

Lance is super horny.

That’s how this all starts out.

He’s lying in bed scrolling through someone’s thirst blog when he gets to this video - not lit the best and clearly taken with the dude’s phone but Lance isn’t scouring for a top dollar production here. He just needs something to finish to. And he’s already watched more videos of guys jacking off than he can count but there’s something about this one that stops his thumb from scrolling past.

It could be the side-view it’s shot at - a refreshing difference from the top-down shots the other ones have been in. Or it could be the cute black briefs with the thick gray elastic that this guy’s wearing, his free hand sliding down the front of his shirt and then dipping under. It could also be - and most definitely is - the breathy hum of satisfaction he lets out as he palms himself there. That’s definitely it. Lance may already be pretty close to coming, but just the sound of this guy’s voice goes straight to his own dick and has that curl of interested arousal blossoming in his stomach.

He can’t see his face - it’s shot from the chest down - but with cute, muted moans like that, Lance doesn’t need to. He doesn’t even need him to jerk himself off that long once he gets his dick out, to be honest. Just a few good tugs and another one of those moans and Lance is coming, hips stuttering up as it works through his body.

He doesn’t even make it to the end of the video.

He doesn’t have to.

 

* * *

 

Lance looks for it the next time.

That same video.

Wants to watch it again and is kicking himself because he didn’t save it and now he has to re-scroll through this whole thirst blog, skipping past all the dick pics and amateur fucking videos and second-guessing if he’s actually accidentally skipped _over_ it in his haste. Until he finds it. Again. Lets the autoplay do its magic and turns the volume on his phone up and presses his earbud in snugger so he can get the full experience of-

_“Nnnmm…”_

Lance swallows, heat curling again. Arousal blooming.

It’s just as good as the first time, that hand trailing down and then disappearing under those cute black briefs.

Lance isn’t nearly as far into jerking off as he was when he stumbled onto this the first time, meaning he can take the moment to appreciate things more. Like how this guy takes his time, none of his movements particularly intense as he eases his hand over himself. Or how if Lance watches long enough, he takes a moment to hike his shirt up past his chest - reveals those lean, pretty abs - keeps the hem up under his armpits and goes back to jerking off with even strokes that Lance tries to match but can’t.

Because those noises are turning him on too much. Those heavy breaths. The low hum that dances through the cord of Lance’s headphones up to his ear. They get to him way too easily. Way too quickly. Have him ready for that last push that comes seconds later - the guy’s wrist starting to snap with purpose and pace picking up and then he’s groaning - hushed - hushed but _hot_ as his abs take the brunt of it.

Lance wants to go back and watch that part again but his own orgasm is bubbling over and putting him in the position and _damn,_ that shit is hot.

So so hot.

He ‘Likes’ the video to save it this time.

 

* * *

  

So look. Lance like, _has a life_ and stuff.

He goes out and has friends and is halfway to his degree and everything. It’s not like he lies around in bed all day jerkin’ it to homemade videos on Tumblr. He just sometimes doesn’t have the mental fortitude to actively find someone to bring back to his apartment and bang. So it only makes sense that he needs spank bank material, you feel?

 

* * *

 

The third time Lance pulls up the video, he purposely watches it all the way through without touching himself and then clicks on the source of the video. He expects it to link back to a blog that’s ripped thousands of people’s videos without credit, but when his phone screen eases to a darker blog color scheme - solid black under the dark gray _@k-baby_ \- he finds his assumption is actually very far off.

Because this shit is from the actual uploader. It’s the same dude. Just video after video after video of the _same fucking dude._

And holy shit.

Holy shit, did Lance just stumble onto a fucking goldmine here?

He thumbs at the newest post, a video opening on a fixed camera that’s pointed at a black dildo suction-cupped to the wall. It’d be funny if Lance’s brain wasn’t already halfway finished slamming through fifteen intriguing possibilities at once. They’re all great, but nothing beats the rush of energy that surges through his body as the boy moves into the shot - chest to lower thighs - bare skin pretty in the sunlight that’s streaming in from behind the camera as he takes a step back toward the toy waiting for him and reaches back to ease himself onto it.

Lance swallows, the faint slick of lube and the breathy rush of air dancing right back up to his ears through his headphones.

God, this guy’s voice does shit to him. Like way, _way_ too easily, he thinks he’s said. It shouldn’t _be_ that easy, should it?

Another breath...

Slow, rocking hips…

That black dildo disappearing nice and snugly inside him - getting a hand to brush down his stomach and wrap loosely around his dick for a couple gentle strokes...

It’s a stark contrast to Lance’s own - his pace already a little too quick even though there’s still enough blood flowing to his brain to remain self-aware - to know that he wants to keep it cool and not blow it without even getting toward the end of the video again.

Well… That’s the _goal._

Except that goal is getting further and further from the realm of possibility with every second that passes. Every roll of this boy’s hips. Every punched out little moan as he starts to bring himself back with a little more purpose.

It’s making it really hard for Lance to control himself - the noises and the sight of that cute ass working as he fucks himself against the wall like-

“Shhhhit-”

Lance grimaces, trying but failing to fight down the waves of too-quick warmth as they tingle up his body. Because it’s already too late. He’s here and his toes are curling and he’s coming all over his stilled hand regardless of the timestamp on the video...which...he doesn’t wanna look at because he’s got a good feeling it’s not nearly as far along as he wants it to be.

…

Okay, maybe just a peek.

3:26 / 6:02

Mm.

Well then.

 

* * *

 

He leaves the @k-baby blog alone for a couple days. For personal reasons. Goes to class and runs his topic for their oceanology paper past Hunk. Does a few adulting things and meets a girl at the bar in town on Saturday and is positive it’s a sure-thing until her friend pulls her off toward the dance floor and Lance doesn’t see her ever again.

The rest of the weekend goes by way too fast. It’s a literal flash before his eyes. And then it’s Monday again. And he’s sitting in class not paying attention because his dumb ass was running late and he gets stuck with a seat all the way in the back row of the lecture hall. Which. Doesn’t work for his attention span. He’s learned.

Anyway.

So there aren’t any selfies on this guy’s blog that show his face.

Yes, he’s scrolling through @k-baby’s stuff in Environmental Studies. No, he’s not watching anything. It’s more of a frantic swipe past videos that don’t even get a chance to autoplay because he’s passing over them at the speed of light. He just wants to know what this guy looks like. Just curious, is all.

Except so far his search has yielded nothing but selfies from the neck down - some in the mirror - most lying down - _lots and lots_ of them showing off his ass in tight briefs just in case someone forgets for a millisecond that he’s a bottom.

A cute bottom, though.

Well, his ass is cute, at least. Lance still hasn’t found any face pics.

But maybe that’s just the way k-baby does shit. Even with the healthy amount of thirsty guys replying on his posts. He probably just wants to keep things private. You know, as private as he can be with a posted picture of some dude’s cum painted impressively over the small of his back, and cheeks spread for the perfect--

Lance clears his throat because yep - mhm okay, that’s his asshole.

Alrighty then he’s just gonna swipe out of Tumblr and fix his attention on the chart of rising temperatures that’s blasted down at the front of the lecture hall.

Yep.

Nothing to see here.

 

* * *

 

Lance waits to _not_ be in class the next time he pops over, which he thinks is a smart move.

It opens the opportunity to slowly roll through k-baby’s #personal posts in private, not that he needs much time to read through them. For a ‘personal’ tag, the text posts aren’t very personal. The majority of them are very succinct. Very to the point. Some variation of “dm for snapchat prices” and the like.

It’s not a lot to go off of but it’s got Lance’s interest piqued.

Because 1) Snapchat.

And 2) prices? So this dude is getting paid to be hot. Ain’t that an interesting concept…

But Lance isn’t gonna do that. Because he’s thirsty but he’s not _that_ thirsty. He likes to think there’s a clear line drawn between him and all the fuckboy tops who comment weird shit on k-baby’s stuff, ranging from the safe and admittedly kind of nice _‘beautiful!’_ all the way up to the head-scratchers like _‘ditch dat fake shit baby lemme fill u up‘._ Doesn’t matter where they fall on the spectrum though. They’re always left alone. Never answered. Never touched by K at all.

It’s almost kind of entertaining, Lance finding himself sifting through all the comments on the video once it’s done and _he’s_ done. He’s gotta wonder if K even looks at them. If he ever goes back on his posts to see the guys slobbering all over him. Lance probably wouldn’t if he knew it was that type of shit that was waiting for him. They’re almost kind of a turn-off at that point.  

But whatever. He’s not gonna be one of those people and add to it. He doesn’t even know what he’d say, to be honest. This guy knows he’s hot. It’s not new information. He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t know, right? And Lance isn’t about to say some gross shit just to say it.

So.

He ‘Likes’ the videos and moves on.

And by “moves on” he means “moves on to the next video”.

 

* * *

 

 It’s the weekend again.

It’s the weekend and Lance very much needs it because his oceanology paper isn’t going as swimmingly as he originally thought it would.

He and Hunk and Pidge get good and shitfaced at the bar and wail on the biology department’s complete lack of consistency and when Lance turns around to get another drink he sees the girl again. The same girl. From last weekend.

She’s here and her friend is not and-

He may be a little too drunk. Can’t tell where she falls in her own line of sobriety. Goes for it anyway and cheeses it and she’s got her fingers laced with his and pulling him behind her to the back porch area.

The September breeze is so fucking nice after the stuffy body heat inside... Has him humming and grinning and humming again with a little laugh as she leads him back against the brick of the building.

The muffled music from inside settles deep in his chest as he watches her tongue the thin straw of her drink into her mouth to take a sip...watches her press forward and hold the plastic cup up between them so Lance can do the same...heavy eyelids...heavy atmosphere around him...heavy tang of cranberry on his tongue and then her tongue and Lance pulls her in flush by her waist.

Heavy heat and cool breeze…

Vodka settled on tequila…

Hands settled on his chest…

Haze settled on his brain and the air around him…

 

_ _ _

 

Lance wakes up alone.

Not because she wakes up first and gets all her shit and leaves while he’s still sleeping.

It’s because she was never here in the first place.

 

* * *

 

He’s in the back row of the lecture hall again.

Not paying attention.

But no surprise pictures of assholes this time.

 

* * *

 

On Tuesday, k-baby posts a new video.

It’s short - five seconds - shot over his shoulder with no audio, but Lance wishes there was because there’s no doubt about the noises he’s making as someone fucks him from behind.

But five seconds is all. Just the five.

Just the five and the text below.

_dm for snapchat prices_

Lance steadies a breath. Watches the snippet a couple more times because it’s just been toys up until this point. Scrolls down and jacks off to the video of K fucking himself against the wall from last week. Gets himself cleaned up and hits the reply button because it takes a second viewing to hear what’s playing softly under those cute little moans. It’s what seems to float beneath all the other videos as well, the consistency dawning on him now that his brain isn’t in his dick.

**nice song choice - gotta love the neighbourhood**

 

* * *

 

Wednesday is a little bit of a clusterfuck for reasons unbeknownst to Lance. Nothing really lines up right or goes the way he needs it to. It’s a little more than annoying, so he treats himself and Hunk to an ungodly amount of junk food from the restaurant down the street and stress eats himself into a food coma.

It’s when he expresses his utter confusion around not taking the girl from the bar home.

It’s when Hunk reminds him that he had came back to their table complaining about the girl’s friend showing up and taking her away again.

It’s the first Lance is hearing of it.

Which is a clusterfuck of its own because he’s the one who lived through it.

 

* * *

 

It’s a real video this time. Not a five second tease.

K is leaned back in a chair, his feet propped up comfortably on the chair’s arms and his legs spread wide so everyone can see as he brings the dark blue dick down to his hole and slides it inside himself with a low murmur.

This toy is flexible - bendable - moves with him as he pumps it in and out - has Lance so mesmerized that he forgets to touch himself.

K’s toes curl against the chair arms, his back straightening a little, another breathy moan, all hot and sweet but not loud enough to overpower the beat in the background.

Lance smiles.

More Neighbourhood.

He can’t _not_ reply.

**please tell me u picked Everybodys Watching Me for the irony lmao. good song good song. its no Softcore but still a good song ;)**

 

_ _ _

 

He’s not really sure why he’s doing this. Why he’s replying to shit all of the sudden. There’s a little thrill that comes with the thought of K actually reading his stuff, but he knows that’s not happening. Not when there’s so many other comments to sift through. So really there’s no point. But it’s still kind of exciting. Even if seeing his own face on his icon next to his reply is a little weird when it’s balls-deep in a slew of dick and six-pack icons.

Oh well.

 

* * *

 

There’s a routine to posting dirty content of yourself on the internet, apparently. Or at least, there is for k-baby.

Lance has caught onto the schedule without realizing it. Has somehow gotten himself Pavlov-ed to start getting horny right after his night class on Thursdays. Because that’s when the videos come. The full ones. Thursday nights.

There will be pictures and the occasional #personal about Snapchat sprinkled in on other days, but Thursday nights are when it all goes down. When it’s showtime. When Lance makes sure he doesn’t have to do anything because he’s actually found himself excited for the new posts.

That might make him desperate, but hey. He can appreciate a good, consistent schedule. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?

Tonight it’s a jerk-off vid. K’s got some really cute red briefs on - makes sure to turn a few times and remind everyone just how badly they wanna be inside him. There’s something about the curve of his lower back that’s really doing it for Lance lately. It’s cute as hell. A nice, soft dip. Leads perfectly to the adorable swell of his ass as he eases his briefs down for the camera. And Lance is just about to unbutton his jeans when it hits him.

Through his phone up to his ears.

The song.

It’s quiet. It’s barely there, but it’s _there._

Softcore.

Lance blinks, brain starting to work as his attention stays on the video, but eyes narrowing as they take in the background - the movement - the...the _song._

Nah.

It’s a coincidence.

He puts it out of his mind and enjoys the video and absolutely does _not_ put it out of his mind one fucking bit because it kind of gets him off even more - the stupid thought that he has even the slightest bit to do with the song choice.

Because he doesn’t.

And yet.

**wow thats a really good one for u**

He has to do it.

**got a fav song by them? mine’s heaven**

Enter.

Done.

 

* * *

 

Lance and Pidge and Hunk go to a movie on Saturday instead of the bar. It’s a scary one that he doesn’t have any prior knowledge on, but it’s decent and even gets him a few times and suddenly he’s wondering if a certain sexy tumblr user likes scary movies.

 

* * *

 

_dm for snapchat prices_

 

* * *

 

This oceanology paper has a quickly approaching deadline.

Lance is about halfway done but doesn’t feel confident about what he’s got so far.

So he works. And works. And works.

And then it’s Thursday morning.

And then it’s Thursday afternoon.

And then it’s Thursday night. And Lance is settling in on his bed and he’s got this weird sort of Advanced Curiosity™ coursing through his veins.

The video doesn’t come in for another hour. He still doesn’t have a good grasp on exact posting times but that’s alright, because the intrigue remains at a ten. And when it _does_ hit his dashboard, he pauses his own music and adjusts the volume before thumbing at the video.

No underwear this time. Just straight to that tight butt and those tight thighs that flex as he rides the dildo suction-cupped to the tile floor. He must be in the kitchen or the bathroom or something, but it doesn’t really matter to Lance because he can’t focus much farther than the music playing softly in the background.

No way.

“No _fucking_ way.”

Lance runs a hand through his hair, mouth dropping open and pulse picking up.

It’s Heaven. It’s goddamn Heaven.

Okay, um-...

It could...still be a coincidence. Maybe. Yes?

_“Hhhhhhn…”_

The hum of satisfaction in his ears goes straight to his dick regardless of the way his brain is bouncing around in his head. Because he might not be sure about the whole song thing, but that voice will ruin him _every_ goddamn time without fail.

The video is around six minutes.

Lance doesn’t get through it but keeps watching after. Keeps listening to the endless loop of Heaven. Watches all the way to the end and then hits the reply button, thumbs typing out slowly and carefully.

**.......silver?**

_ _ _

 

It’s a test.

A song from that one weird album from 2014 with all the zeros and Fs in the name.

Lance tries not to think too much about the possibility of this very sought-after dude being not only aware of him, but favoring his opinion over everyone else’s, because he doesn’t want to get a big head. And the hit to his self esteem if this really is a coincidence is not gonna be fun at _all._ So. He’s not gonna think about it too much and just see what happens on Thursday.

If he can make it that long without walking straight into traffic over this paper.

 

* * *

 

He makes it to Tuesday.

Gets _suuuuuper_ high with Pidge instead of wrecking himself over needing to change his thesis statement with two weeks left until the deadline.

Goes to the gym on Wednesday and gets a girl’s number which has literally _never_ worked for him in that setting, so there’s something.

And then it’s Thursday again.

And Lance doesn’t wanna get a big head so he forces himself to get shit done around his apartment and then goes on Tumblr _when he can._ You know... _at his leisure._

The video was posted two and a half hours ago.

People have already commented on it.

Lance composes himself and plugs his headphones in and hits play.

Top-down, smooth skin...back arching off dark bed sheets...easy, familiar beat…

The corners of Lance’s mouth quirk into a slow, knowing grin.

 

* * *

 

This is how his first message goes. Straight to k-baby’s inbox.

**i realize u dont respond to peoples messages and comments and stuff and thats cool man - just wanted to say i dig your music taste and curious if u do have a fav nbhd song. u dont gotta respond if u dont want bc im sure u get a ton of nasty shit in your inbox on the reg and dont even look at this stuff, but yeah. also nice video tonight! alrighty man have a good night**

And that’s that on that.

 

* * *

 

Alright, so-...

Nice. Nice nice nice.

Except Lance is gonna quick pop over to his own blog and make sure he hasn’t reblogged anything exceedingly embarrassing lately just in case he’s being watched by a certain someone.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t get an answer, but he doesn’t really expect to. Which makes it a lot easier because he already knew it wasn’t going to happen. And it also makes it easier to get back to things that have actual real-world consequences like getting to his goddamn 8am on time and getting a seat in the front row.

He student-s the shit outta that class. Takes bomb notes. Answers a few questions that don’t pull from the lectures where he was stranded at the top of the class looking at pictures of assholes. All in all, it’s a good class.

He gets himself a smoothie for a job well done and then goes on his phone during his break and nearly chokes to death on a chunk of strawberry that he inhales through his straw as he sees the notification.

_‘@k-baby has answered your question’_

Oh shit, for _real?_

It takes a second, but he finishes up his very dramatic choking so he can thumb open the message with a curiosity that’s hard to contain.

It’s answered privately. Just between the two of them. But that’s totally okay because he’s actually in contact with-

_let it go_

Lance blinks.

Reads it again.

Well damn, _okay._ No need to be fucking rude about it.

He’s pulling a face as he closes out of Tumblr and sets his phone down on the table. He fucking knows he is. Just like how he knows he maybe went a step too far with the whole song thing - a DM after three replies. But god damn, really?

Fine then. He’ll let it go.

It’s whatever.

 

* * *

 

He is _not_ disappointed.

Leave him alone.

 

* * *

 

Tuesday is fine. He gets a couple paragraphs done on his essay but it might just be bullshit filler instead of actual meaningful content. Oh well.

 

* * *

 

It’s past midnight and the open window is letting in some cool breeze when Lance’s eyes fly open in realization.

let it go

As in the song Let It Go.

As in the song Let It Go by The Neighbourhood.

As in K is answering his question about his favorite song and it’s Let It Go by The Neighbourhood.

Jesus _Christ_ Lance is so fucking stupid.

 

* * *

 

Alright, so disappointment cancelled and we’re right back to living life and intrigue!

Should Lance message him again? Something like ‘lol cool dude thats definitely a classic’? That might be too much. Like what’s the point of that. But Lance wants to. He doesn’t care if he got the bare minimum for an answer last time. The point is he’s literally _never_ seen this guy respond to anyone in any way, shape, or form.

Except for him.

So.

**nice! u ever use it in any of your vids? i just found u like a month ago so i havent seen all your shit yet. have a good night!**

Aaaaand send.

Well...we’ll see.

 

* * *

 

It’s Thursday morning.

No notifications from Tumblr but that’s okay.

Lance goes about his day, confident in the knowledge that even if he doesn’t get a response, there’ll still be a new video tonight, so he’s looking at a pretty healthy win/win here.

And that’s how things end up, no answer to his message but a six minute video on his dash that he actually gets through this time. K’s wearing those black briefs with the thick gray trim again - the ones from the first video that had Lance falling down this particular rabbit hole. He’s gotta say there’s a bizarre little soft spot in his chest for those briefs. As...weird as that statement is.

Anyway.

They don’t come off quick. He takes his time touching himself through the fabric and breathes nice and heavily. Like he’s right here. Like Lance is right next to him. Like all he has to do is reach out and touch to get more.

And then they come off. The briefs. And Lance slides his hand under the waistband of his sweatpants. And K lets out this soft almost-whimper and it’s all downhill after that.

 

* * *

 

Lance physically loses the phone number of the girl from the gym. It sounds impossible, but he can assure you it _is_ possible, because both their phones were in the lockers so she wrote it down on the back of a flyer that Lance promptly loses because oops.

So.

Never mind on that.

But on Saturday his girl from the bar is there again. And so is her friend. But he’s confident he can seal the deal tonight because he’s looking selfie worthy. And his followers are busy eating those up in his pocket as he takes a sip from his beer, forming his gameplan in his head as he tries to figure out what she’s drinking from half a room away.

He’s willing to bet it’s just a vodka cranberry like she’s had every time now. Not that he’s judging. Fuck no - makes it way easier to motion toward her for the bartender and order her another one on his tab.

She gets it.

Gets it’s from him.

Gives him a little grin and then shrugs to her friend when she no doubt starts asking questions.

Lance has got his foot in the door. All she has to do is step away.

Except...she doesn’t.

She tries, but can’t.

Lance commits to joining back into whatever Hunk and Pidge are talking about.

Until he pulls up Tumblr and sees the notification.

_‘@k-baby liked your photoset’_

Lance-... He-...struggles to see for himself - to make sure that he did in fact-

Oh shit.

K just liked his selfies. He just...liked his motherfucking selfies from tonight. He likes his face.

Okay, stay cool. Nothing to overreact to. He already knows what Lance looks like from his icon. All he did was look up Lance’s blog on his own, unprompted, and scroll through it and-...yeah. No problem. Stay cool.

 

* * *

 

 _‘@k-baby answered your question:_ **_nice! u ever use it in any of your vids? i just found u like a month ago so i havent seen all your shit yet. have a good night!_ ** _’_

_not yet. dont wanna ruin it. nice face btw._

 

* * *

 

Lance is getting a big head.

A nice, girthy ego threatening to spill over.

_dm for snapchat prices_

He just fucking might.

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**so this whole snapchat thing. how would one go about getting involved in that.**

Lance sends it through Tumblr’s instant messaging system because as much as he enjoys the intrigue of sending something off into the ether with the possibility of never seeing it again, some things require a more direct approach. He doesn’t seem to be the only one who prefers this method.

_one would trade a flat fee for direct content_

Direct content. Interesting. Nice.

**cool cool cool. so like. what are we talking pricing wise.**

This is how he’s supposed to be doing this, right? ‘DM for snapchat prices?’ This is that, yeah?

_20/month_

Lance’s little grin of excitement flat-lines into a near-gasp - an honest to god gawk down at his phone because whaaaaaat.

Yikes.

**ahaha right on so uh. got any broke student discounts?**

It’s a joke.

Kinda.

Not really at all.

He knows he’s not painting a picture of his Best Self right now but holy hell. Twenty bucks a month. That’s double a Pornhub Premium membership. (Not that he’s looked into that or anything.) Shit, that’s almost $250 a year. (Not that he’d be sticking around for that long.)

_are you seriously haggling for dick pics_

Oof - direct hit.

**no**

Okay, comeback time.

Reel this shit back in.

**as beautiful as you are, a boy’s gotta eat.**

You know what he could go for right now? A nasty response. Something just absolutely filthy like ‘you could eat this ass instead’ or something to completely wash over the fact that he’s just a poor boy from a poor family. Spare him his life from this monstrosity, k-baby.

_i gotta eat too. hence the 20/month._

Alrighty then, no dirty joke to lighten the mood. Ain’t that just the-

_it’s worth it tho_

_jsyk_

Lance lets out a sigh, collapsing back onto his couch and dragging a hand through his hair as the great internal debate sets in.

He really shouldn’t. He _reeeeeally_ really shouldn’t. He’s already scraping by with what he’s got just to stay in this apartment. And listen, he’s made some questionable decisions in his lifetime, but blowing twenty bucks a month on some porn when it’s supposed to be used for groceries?

**alrighty thanks. im sure its worth it but im stretched a little too thin rn. i’ll hit u up if that changes.**

He ends it with a thumbs up emoji and hits send before he can think better of it - before his little grimace and “ahh” and reach toward his screen like he can summon it back if he just tries hard enough.

He can’t.

It’s out there.

Forever.

 

* * *

 

K doesn’t message him back.

Lance is gonna have to stare at that stupid fucking thumbs up emoji for the rest of his life.

 

* * *

 

So like...while the intrigue around whatever the Snapchat Content could be is there, Lance really truly just kinda wants to support this guy - feels bad for soaking up all his videos and everything and not giving anything in return. Granted, there’s probably a stupid amount of guys already slamming those Jacksons into k-baby’s bank account, so one person less isn’t going to make a difference, it’s just... Lance… He feels… Something™.

 

* * *

 

They have a workshop day for their oceanology papers and it’s the worst and best thing to ever happen to them. It’s the best because they get a three week extension. It’s the worst because the extension is the direct outcome of their prof’s complete and utter disappointment with the substance of everyone’s papers so far.

Lance doesn’t know if he should cry in frustration or rejoice.

 

* * *

 

On Sunday he and Hunk go for a long autumn walk in the forest preserve and hope they don’t get murdered.

Hunk unloads about the girl in his bio lab. The one he’s been sweet on for like fifty years now and yet Lance has never had the opportunity to meet.

He wants to take her to the corny little hoedown thing in the quad two weekends from now and Lance seriously doesn’t know how else to tell him that he should just ask her. That Hunk is the kind of sweetheart dude who can be direct without coming off as creepy and overwhelming. That she’s probably sitting there _waiting_ for him to ask her.

He’s said it all. Over and over again.

He swears to god they’re gonna get him over his confidence issues one way or another.

 

* * *

 

It’s Monday.

The thumbs up emoji is branded into Lance’s vision every time he checks.

Back to the individual asks, then.

**hey man hope your week is starting off good. seen the nbhd tour news? idk if youre a live show dude or not but figured id pass it on lol.**

Send.

**oh wait sorry also just wanted to make sure i didnt insult u or anything with that snapchat stuff. sorry if i did. if i had the cash id be all up in that lol. anyway yeah sorry again.**

Send.

**fuck sorry i shoulda just used the IM thing at this point. ANYWAY do u have like a normal donation thing set up? idek what i mean but like. a kofi or somethin. or normal paypal i can just scoot some loose change your way at. lemme know.**

Send.

**oH MY GOD im sorry this is the last one i swear. i didnt mean actual loose change. Like im not about to be sending u 37 cents at a time. unless u want that. which i dont think u do. but yeah itd be a reasonable amount. just to be clear. alright im done have a good one.**

 

* * *

 

Lance is a disaster.

 

* * *

 

Zero out of four.

That’s how many responses he gets.

Honestly Lance doesn’t even blame him for ignoring three fourths of those messages, but he kinda thought he’d at least get a quick one regarding his paypal info. Because...you know...money.

But nope.

Zero out of four.

0/4.

That’s a worse grade than he’s getting in his oceanology class.

 

* * *

 

He tries to forget it. Chalks it up to whatever he needs to chalk it up to. Does a really good job at pretending like he’s not thinking about it at all times until Thursday night comes and there’s no video. No picture. No nothing.

But he pretends like he’s not thinking about it and chalks it up to whatever he needs to chalk it up to until it’s Friday night and there’s still nothing. And that doesn’t seem right.

And Lance starts to worry.

He goes into the k-baby tag. Refreshes and hits over to the most recent posts and there’s a couple people reposting his old videos but nothing from the actual boy himself. And that doesn’t seem right.

And Lance continues to worry.

But it’s not his place so he pretends like he’s not thinking about it and chalks it up to whatever he needs to chalk it up to until it’s Sunday night and there hasn’t been a single sign of K for almost a week and that shit _does not seem right._

**u ok man?**

It’s to the IM. No fucking around.

**not stalking or anything just wanna make sure ur radio silence isnt bc somethings wrong**

Ten o’clock on a Sunday night. He’s got shit to take care of for tomorrow. Has his usual case of the Sunday Scaries. And yet he’s sitting here, waiting for a response that he’s almost one hundred percent sure isn’t going to come, because nothing seems quite as important right now. Everything else can take a back seat for the time being until he gets it, fifteen minutes later, short and unhelpful.

_yeah_

Lance’s frown has a mind of its own. Doesn’t believe the one-worder. Has him typing out:

**u sure?**

Leaves him no better when he gets the same thing -

_yeah_

\- because that shit does _not seem right._

And he doesn’t know this guy. This guy doesn’t know him. They’re not fucking friends in the slightest and yet there’s this overwhelming pressure rising from the pit of his stomach to the tightness near his lungs and-

**if u wanna vent or anything just hmu. im known to give questionable advice but u can let loose and i’ll stfu if u want. no strings.**

It alleviates it a little - just a tiny bit - just enough to tell his brain that he put the offer out there and that’s all he can do, alright? So if it could stop pumping all the negative shit into his chest he would really appreciate it.

K doesn’t reply back.

It’s a theme.

A constant state of things that isn’t expected to change.

Until it does.

_do you have skype_

Lance reads it over. And then again. And then one more time just to make sure that he is, in fact, reading it correctly and k-baby is, in fact, asking for what he’s asking for.

And then he remembers that ahaha, _no._ He _doesn’t_ have Skype. He got rid of Skype like three fucking years ago and yet-

**yeah u wanna call?**

\- as he’s pulling up the download box and clicking through the setup process as fast as humanly possible. Fingers like the wind. Keyboard sounding like a beginner’s tapdance class. CPU whirring hard and fast and-

**whats ur @**

It comes in quickly.

_k-baby_

The quickest response to date.

And Lance is setting a user picture and centering his camera and he really should’ve made sure he doesn’t look like hot garbage before starting the call but here he is, the telltale ring and his face in the little box and whoa, why is his heart beating so fucking fast?

It rings.

And rings.

And rings, in that oddly anxiety-producing way that only Skype can.

And then the call screen minimizes.

And the incoming video zooms full screen.

And Lance is staring, the familiar cropping from the neck down setting his pulse a little thicker against his wrists.

Because it’s happening. He’s talking to k-baby. Well-...no one’s talking yet. Actually there’s a lot of silence and it’s enough to have Lance pulling a face and throwing out a friendly, “Hey!” as a starter.

It sounds way too loud in his small apartment, and the lack of greeting back has him making a small noise, his hand coming up to wave around by the camera to test the lag as he says it.

“Oh-...hang on. Did we freeze…?”

The incoming video clips right along, K shifting where he’s sitting and a little bit of a stutter leaving him before he speaks for the first time, voice smooth even as it trips up at the start, _“N-... No, hey. We’re uh-... We’re good…”_

And there’s just enough of _something_ there that Lance can spot it, but not fully recognize it. It’s not nerves. Definitely not shyness. More like...a little…stunned...?

Lance doesn’t know what to do with that. Doesn’t know what to do with _any_ of this. Is worried that if he lets his mouth run loose he’s gonna sink some proverbial ships so he just offers a smile - a small chuckle - can’t resist the urge to reach out to the top of his laptop and adjust his camera positioning downward with a teasing - “Oh, are we doin’ the super secret agent thing?” - sets it so only his chest and torso can be seen too. “Didn’t get the memo from headquarters.”

There’s a rush of air that sounds suspiciously like a laugh from the other side and then K’s talking again, this time much more sure. _“You can do whatever you want.”_

It’s weird to hear. Like...to hear actual words...

Lance knows that’s a completely stupid and borderline creepy thing to say, but it’s a first. He’s only used to the breathy hums and cute moans. And he also knows this is not the point of this call, but he’s gotta admit the cute moans stem from a cute voice overall.

As if he expected anything less.

_“Did...we freeze…?”_

Lance physically shakes his head. Recalibrates. Reaches out again to focus his camera back up toward his face with a dismissing, “Nah sorry, just thinking.”

_“About what.”_

“How weird it-” Nope. Stop. That’s the kind of shit he’s talking about with letting his mouth run loose. “Doesn’t matter. You wanted to vent right?” Back to business.

There’s another shift on the screen, the subtle gray pattern of K’s t-shirt glitching the video before settling again. _“Um… Actually, I was gonna ask if you could just_ talk.”

“Talk?”

_“Yeah.”_

“About what?”

_“I dunno… ...anything…?”_

Lance tries to school his confusion. Him? Someone’s actually asking _him_ to talk about something? “I mean… I can definitely ramble, if that’s what you’re lookin’ for.”

 _“Yeah,”_ another huff of breath through his nose, _“I can already tell that about you.”_

The desire to throw out a feigned nose tilt of insult wins out, Lance’s hand coming to his chest. “Well I never. You don’t even know me.”

_“I know you spam my inbox when there’s a perfectly good instant messaging option right at the bottom of your screen.”_

“That-...” A pause. He can’t argue that one. “...-may be true - however…”

‘However’ nothing. There really is no other way he can go with this. He does wish he could see K’s face though. See if he’s smiling or not. If Lance is doing his job.

“Anyway there’s this hoedown happening on campus next weekend. You ever been to one?”

_“Mm-mm.”_

“Me neither. Isn’t really my vibe, you know?” No response. “So like, my friend’s all head over heels for this girl and I’m tryna get him to ask her to go, but he’s got cold feet. Even though I _know_ for a fact that she’d be into it - well-” Lance corrects himself, “I mean, I don’t know for a _fact,_ but-...” Focus. “Anyway. I think they’d be super fucking cute together, you know? My boy’s just gotta put himself out there, but that’s not his thing. He likes to blend in even though he’s this big ol’ hunky Samoan dude. But yeah, so that’s what’s going on with that. Uhhh...”

Lance checks back in with the other half of the call, who has yet to be scared away by his rambling.

Interesting.

“Hm. What else…”

_“What college.”_

“Huh?”

_“Where do you go.”_

“Oh uh, this kinda small one out in the cornfields,” he finds himself laughing at the irony of it all. “I was gonna go to Michigan State but that shit’s not cheap, you know?”

_“Mm.”_

“Yeah.” Another pause. Lance contemplates. Watches as K sits back in his chair and tips the last gulp of a beer bottle, his adams apple working as he swallows. Oh. He’s drinking. “How ‘bout you?”

_“What.”_

“What college are you at?”

_“None.”_

“Oh, you graduated already?”

_“No - didn’t go at all.”_

Lance nods. Once. Short. “Right.” Well _he_ feels ignorant. “Uh…”

His phone buzzes in his lap. His Sunday night reminder to go the fuck to sleep so he can get a good seat at his 8am.

He’s just gonna exit out of that real quick.

Gotta keep this going.

Gotta do his job.

“Hey, do you believe in ghosts?”

He’s ready for the classic brush off or tease - not at all for K’s immediate: _“Yeah, why.”_

It has him needing to take a moment. Needing to cope with the fact that he not only didn’t just get made fun of, but has the other party in agreeance with him. “Oh hell yeah. Do you wanna rabb.it Ghost Adventures? I gotta pretend like I’m going to sleep here soon but we can watch together if you still want someone around.”

His proposition has K going characteristically silent on the other end for a moment, whatever’s going on in his mind taking up a good portion of his attention. But then, a little broken like his first words had been, _“Uh-..._ Yeah, _that’d-... Sure…”_

It’s surprised.

Pieced together.

Cute.

Lance can’t help the smile on his face. “Cool. I’ll set it up and send you the link.”

_“Okay…”_

“Okay.”

And that’s how Lance falls asleep, phone balanced on his pillow, both his and K’s cam feeds gone murky and dark in their respective rooms as Zak sends Aaron into the cellar alone and forgets about him for three hours.

 

_ _ _

 

Lance wakes with a start, his backup nightstand alarm blaring and his phone dead in his hand.

He forgot to plug it into his charger.

 

* * *

 

The nice thing to do would be to send a follow-up message to K to make sure he’s doing alright. But Lance feels like he’s hovering. And there’s nothing worse than some rando overstaying their emotional welcome. And Lance doesn’t wanna _be_ that, so. He waits a couple days. Minds his business. Starts formulating a non-confrontational way of checking in when there’s a new @k-baby post on his dash, rendering his check-in thankfully unnecessary.

It’s a photo. A mirror photo. K’s turned with his best asset facing the glass, a cute pair of dark red briefs with tiny outlines of black diamonds on them clinging nicely.

Lance finds himself heaving a sigh of relief. Mentally deletes the message he had worked out in his brain. Likes the photo and moves on with his day.

 

* * *

 

Pidge and their work ethic is starting to get on Lance’s envious nerves.

They’re almost done with the paper and they check in on Lance to see if he’s working on it and Lance says _yes_ even though the answer is _no_ because he can’t think for even one more second about harmful algae blooms or he swears to god he’s gonna throw himself out of his third story window.

 

* * *

 

Wednesday.

Just-...

Just Wednesday.

 

* * *

 

K’s fucking that bendable blue dildo again on Thursday night as if nothing happened. He’s spread out against that armchair and dragging the tip of the toy down his sternum and his abs and it’s disappearing inside of him - toes curled - everything bared.

Lance closes his eyes and lets his brows furrow and gets off to his voice and his breath and the familiar lull of The Neighbourhood.

 

* * *

 

He needs to get laid.

The hoedown is in full swing and Hunk _actually asks that girl_ and that’s really fucking awesome and everything but Lance is stressed. And Lance is strung up. And Lance needs to get laid.

The huge bonfire in the middle of the campus quad throws everyone’s shadows along the surrounding buildings, reaching high up on the brick and pointed toward where the stars are in clear view tonight.

Lance hypes Hunk up to go dance, and quickly downs a beer so he can get started on another one, and is just bringing the next to his mouth when he locks eyes with the girl from the gym across the fire. The one he lost the phone number for.

It’s like a movie. Like something that shouldn’t happen in real life. And she’s not drinking, but she’s got this black and blue flannel dress on. And black boots. And one of those cowboy hats that shouldn’t look good on anyone, but has her dark hair framing her face in a way that makes it clear that she knows what she’s doing. Somehow. If that even makes sense. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t. Pretty sure he sounds like one of those shitty male writers that Tumblr makes fun of.

Lance takes another drink, the permanent tension in his shoulders on its way to loosening as he nods in offhanded agreement with whatever one of his classmates is saying beside him.

He needs to get laid.

Needs to take the edge off.

Needs to have a super unclassy moment and just _fuck_ someone so he can get his brain out of his dick and back in his head.

The second and third beer go down easy. Air starts to get thicker. Country music starts to get catchy. Grass starts to get sloshy underneath his shoes - or maybe that’s just him.

He wants to meet back up with Hunk but doesn’t wanna interrupt.

Wants to have another beer but is starting to sway as it is.

Wants to follow after as the girl from the gym locks eyes with him over the fire again and then disappears with a couple other girls. Because it’s an invitation. It has to be.

This one he’ll do.

He gives it a few minutes and then follows after.

They’ve gone far but not too far. Removed but not too removed. Away from the light of the bonfire and the hay and into an alcove created by the biology and computer science buildings. The warm glow seeps into washed out moonlight. Music echoes just off-beat against the flat walls. Quiet enough to catch the scratch of a lighter and the familiar smell as he rounds the corner just in time for the hazy cloud.

Lance hums to himself.

Blinks slowly at the other two girls who’ve made their way to sit against the wall a little further away. Shoulders pressed. Faces close. Words murmured.

He passes them without a thought and returns the welcoming grin from where the gym girl is enjoying her hit. Sam. Samantha… ...Sammy…?

Time stretches.

Music stretches.

Shadow after shadow after shadow stretches and he doesn’t take a hit but he downs his cup. Feels his phone buzz once. Clipped. Watches the toe of her boot stomp out the joint with a twist and somehow loses his cup and gets her nice and close against the shadows and swallows her up.

Hands lost in her hair - under his shirt - plopping her hat on his head and he hates that shit but doesn’t care because he’s not classy and he’s gonna get it in and he’s pretty sure one of those girls has a hand down the other’s pants so they’re in good company.

Shadows.

A buzz.

Maybe Hunk.

The musk of weed on her breath and beer on his breath and he’s not classy and they both need to get laid but at least he brings them around the corner again. At least he separates them from the other two - closer to the fire and the music and the shadows but she’s rubbing up against him - chasing after it - pulling at his belt and Lance is grabbing for his wallet in his back pocket and pulling out the condom he knows damn well he shouldn’t keep there and he’s not classy but he needs to get it in and he fucks her against the bale of hay on the outskirts of the campus hoedown - pulls his pants down just enough and her dress up just enough and there’s hay in her hair but neither of them seem to give a shit with the way they keep up with one another and _fuck-_

Lance is not classy.

Lance is not classy Lance is not classy Lance is not classy right now but holy shit does he cum like his fucking life depends on it.

 

_ _ _

 

They both go back to the quad.

They don’t see the other two girls again.

He has absolutely no hangover in the morning because he wasn’t even that tipsy to begin with.

 

* * *

 

So anyway.

Harmful algae bloom.

 

* * *

 

It’s Monday night and Lance has gotten the full details on just how in love with Shay Hunk is. (A lot.) And also how glad Hunk is that he invited her. (A lot.) And how right Lance was about putting himself out there this whole time. (A lot, but Lance already knew that shit.)

Yes, the world seems to be turning around for the better. Hunk is in love and Lance has gotten his dick energy realigned. Truly a great time for both of them.

**happy monday!**

He’s being a cheeseball but he doesn’t care. He’s gotta spread some joy to K.

**hope you have a good week my dude u keep bein ur sexy self**

He doesn’t get an answer and doesn’t expect one and is still feeling those goodgood vibes regardless.

 

* * *

 

K-baby posts two extremely hot pictures on Wednesday. Like...so hot that they literally take Lance’s breath away for a moment, his lungs refusing to work as his eyes take in the image cropped just above the dark blue dick brought to the side of K’s open mouth, the head of it tastefully dragging his plump bottom lip over his bottom row of teeth.

It’s the first time Lance has seen any bit of his face whatsoever.

And he’s…

Having a moment...

Because he has such a nice jawline. Such a pretty mouth. Such a hot drag of the flat of his tongue up the toy in the second picture.

Lance can feel it all going to his own dick in a matter of seconds. An instant kill shot.   

There’s a million and one things he could write as a reply but so many other dudes have already taken it upon themselves to totally ruin it - have already said shit like _“mines bigger”_ and _“daddy loves a sloppy blowjob”_ and _“thats a good little slut”._

It’s got Lance’s soul leaving his body for a moment, so he can only imagine what K must think of it.

He knows what he’ll say.

**‘anyway have u ever eaten a dick popsicle? theyre actually pretty tasty and if u just get the mold then u can make whatever flavor u want. these guys could use a vid of u biting the shit outta one with how gross theyre bein to u lol just sayinnnnnnn’**

And that’s that on that.

 

* * *

 

Thursday afternoon. He’s in class when he gets it.

_are there really dick shaped popsicles_

Lance can’t help but grin like an idiot right there in the middle of the lecture hall.

**hell yeah man**

**want me to link u?**

And yes, he’s in the middle because he was a tiny bit late, but that’s not important. What’s important is that K’s finally the first to initiate conversation and-

_no_

Dang. Well, it was worth the try.

**suit urself. continue to use bland tasting dicks.**

_k_

The slide switches on the screen in front of him, Lance making sure to fill in the appropriate notes so he has at least a little to go off of tonight when he looks back. He’s just finishing a fill-in when his phone lights up from auto-dim, drawing his attention right back like it never left.

_did you like the pics tho_

He has to tilt his head in a confusion a bit, brows furrowed and probably looking stupid to onlookers but um-

**wait. serious?**

**ur really asking me that**

Except he doesn’t get a response and the slide changes and he has to jot down notes but then he’s right back to it.

**lmao ur kidding right**

**of course man they were super hot**

Why is this even a question right now? What could possibly be going on in that boy’s head to cause doubt?

**like SUPER hot**

What exactly is the issue here?

**u think people didnt like them or something?**

Another slide.

Then another.

And then five more.

And they leave Lance scribbling down as much as he can, doing his best to retain information while battling with the confusion still lingering around K’s question.

Because what the hell?

 

_ _ _

 

The video comes in late tonight. Almost attributes to that lingering confusion. But then it’s posted. It’s there, right on Lance’s dash like it should be.

Oh boy is it ever.

_“Hnnnn…”_

K’s starting out strong - right outta the gate - has clearly edited and trimmed the video because he’s already settled into riding the dildo suction cupped to the floor - already has a healthy rhythm going, his thighs tense and knees bent and torso flexing tightly to the soft muffled beat of Sweater Weather.

Lance can feel the arousal work up his entire body, pushing his earbuds in and enjoying those cute breathy moans that get him hard in an instant.

But he’s getting better. Can hold off now. Is able to get through most videos without touching himself the first time through so he can appreciate every little detail like he wants to.

K’s hands disappear up above the shot - probably in his hair - come back down to where his cock is bouncing hard and ready against his stomach. He gives himself a stroke - has Lance’s fingers itching to do the same where he watches in his bed.

And there’s only twenty seconds left in the video so either K’s actually farther along than everyone previously thought or-

_“Hhhhh-...hohhh…”_

Lance’s dick twitches in his sweats - primal instincts - nothing he’s closer to controlling than he was two months ago at the start of this whole thing. But it’s not his fault because he’s never once acted like this boy’s voice doesn’t work instantly on him.

K-baby cums onto his stomach, all heavy breaths and hips still working and Lance feels that shit without so much as a single stroke on his end.

That’s how he knows how truly gone he is.

That’s how he fucking knows.

Well...that, and he only needs about a minute of his second playthrough.

But he’s not gonna talk about that. He’s just gonna like the video and bypass looking at the gross comments and let his phone collapse onto his chest as he stares up at his ceiling, the aftershocks flooding through him while he lies there and contemplates life.

It’s a great video, amped up only by the little bubble noise notification that has Lance flipping his phone back up to eye view.

Oh. Speak of the fucking devil.

_congratulations - youve won one free month of snapchat subscription. share your snapcode to claim._

Lance blinks in the dark, eyes a little wider than they should be, but excuse him because-

**wait what? me?**

**i didnt even know u were having a contest**

_im not_

**but you just** \- What the hell?

Okay.

There’s gotta be a catch.

**one month. free.**

_yes_

**why me**

_because i fucking said so._

Lance has to take a second. Has to do a whole lot of calming down. Doesn’t wanna get a big head but holy shit what else is he supposed to do with this?

_do you want it or not_

Okay focus. Focus the fuck up, Lance.

It’s time to enter the big leagues.

**fuck yes i want it**

 

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

Hunk and Shay are dating!

Hooray!

She’s very very nice and Hunk is very very nice and together they make one very very nice couple.

Like, _very_ very nice.

Almost... _too_ nice.

Lance has to take a break from them to get some air.

 

* * *

 

They all go out on Saturday.

To a drive-in movie.

Lance refuses up and down and all sorts of sideways because “that’s a date, Hunk - a drive-in movie is totally a date - you need to do that shit with Shay”. Yet his friend insists that they both want him there. And Lance has some Bad Feelings about it. But then Hunk flashes him that _look_ that has Lance ready to fight a pack of silverback gorillas for him and that’s how he winds up here - in the backseat of the parked car - top down, stars out, breeze in his hair and knee accidentally knocking with the dude in the back with him because _no one fucking told him Shay was bringing another friend._

And it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate a little backseat knee-knocking with a cute guy (if you know what he means), it’s just… God, he doesn’t know… He’s just not...feeling it tonight?

Shay’s friend - Luis - he’s good-looking and all that. That’s not the problem. There really _isn’t_ a problem, honestly. He’s sure no one intended this to be a blind double date or anything, so it’s not like he’s disappointing anyone by not going after it.

It’s just…

Lance’s phone lights up in the middle seat, casting both of them in blue light as he gives a glance over for some quick eye contact and then reaches for it.

It’s a notification. From an app he’s very familiar with but a name he’s not used to seeing.

 **_Snapchat - now_ ** **_  
_ ** _from k-baby_

Ooo, the sweet rush of excitement and intrigue.

Lance does his best to dim his phone screen as much as possible without being obvious. He may not be trying to impress anyone, but he can still have some common courtesy, even if it’s taking a good amount of self control to not bounce in his seat.

Because hell yeah. His first snap from K. Talk about an adrenaline rush.

Except he shouldn’t open it here, right? That’d be weird. _Although…_ it _is_ only a picture and not a video. He could get away with that a lot easier.

Lance glances up at the back of Hunk’s head - and then further out to the horror movie he isn’t even really watching - and then slips a casual side-eye toward Luis next to him.

Fuck it.

He’s doing it.

The little red square next to k-baby’s name glitches as he loads the picture on the drive-in’s skeptical wifi, and then...very carefully...screen tilted to the side but so he can still see…

The photo is dark.

Murky with his low brightness level.

It takes a second and is confirmed to actually have _no_ bodies in it, but in fact a table with a couple glasses and some font Lance can’t read until he forgoes the secrecy and brings his phone up to his face.

 _@lapseye_ _  
_ _11pm ct_

Hm.

Interesting.

He doesn’t know what the fuck that means but it’s two hours away. Maybe if he checks K’s story?

Nope, it’s the same thing.

Lance taps his phone off, letting it flop back into his lap as their car and all the others get caught in the startling brightness of a scene change.

‘11pm ct’

Central Time, right? 11pm Central Time?

But what or who is @lapseye?

He shifts in the dark, legs spreading a bit more and his knee knocking with Shay’s friend’s. It’s a mixture of his “Sorry,” and Luis’s “My bad,” and Lance almost just wants to keep them pressed together so they won’t have to keep doing this.

But Luis moves his leg away, Lance feels like a jerk, and they didn’t even get to grab popcorn before the movie started so his stomach is rumbling.

It’s fine. He’s a grown boy. He can sit through this without whining. Even if he’s not exactly following the plot. And even if he’s still kind of wondering what K’s snap meant.

Whatever. Patience is a virtue.

 

\- - - - -

 

Minutes upon minutes pass.

The movie draws to a close.

It’s about time for them to be hitting the ol’ dusty trail but here they continue to sit - here _everybody_ continues to sit - all the cars around them remaining still and their passengers all turning inward to chat and _ahhh_ Lance just kinda wants to go home, no offense Hunk. And not just because eleven o’clock is quickly approaching. Well- ...yeah. Okay. Almost entirely because eleven o’clock is quickly approaching.

But here he sits, bullshitting and laughing and telling stories and it’s six minutes past when it happens. When Lance’s phone lights up.

 **k-baby** **  
** _New Snap - now_

It’s a video. A purple box. A series of them, he realizes as he taps on K’s name but doesn’t dare press anything else.

Oh helllll yeah, it’s gametime. Or at least it would be if he was home, in the privacy of his own space, not risking it for the biscuit.

In the seat ahead of him, Hunk ties everyone back into the joke - one that Lance was checked out for half of. But it’s the thought that counts and he gives a chuckle even though he doesn’t fully get it and then stuffs his phone in his pocket to avoid his own cat-like curiosity.

 

\- - - - -

 

He’s missing something good. He just knows it.

Yes, he also knows he’s not _really_ missing anything because those snaps will be there when he gets home, it’s just… That curiosity, man. That freakin’ curiosity.

Lance slips his phone out of his pocket a bit - just enough to peek at the three new videos waiting in his notifications.

God. God damn it.

You know what? Fuck it.

“Be right back,” he mumbles, loud enough for Hunk to hear but not to interrupt Shay’s story about something that happened in their bio lab.

He gets the nod from Hunk and then Lance is off, hoisting himself over the car’s side, gravel crunching under his sneakers as he treks over to the small, isolated brick building of bathrooms.

He’s not actually going in - he hasn’t reached that level of creepiness. He’s going _behind_ the bathrooms. Yeah. Way more normal. Right?

Ok no, but he’s gonna do it anyway.

The brightness of Lance’s phone as he thumbs the screen to life is a little shocking in the almost pitch blackness of his hiding spot. The overhead lights in front of the small building don’t make it back here, but that’s ok because it means no one else will accidentally wander this way. Which also means he’s free to slouch back against the wall, pulse quickening in his chest as he finally opens up Snapchat, takes a breath, and then hits K’s story.

The video starts right away - a POV shot of someone’s hand snaking down someone’s stomach - K’s stomach - Lance could recognize that stretch of skin anywhere.

The lighting is dim but that just adds to the excitement of it, that hand brushing over his lean abs in appreciation until dropping lower - camera dropping lower - Lance’s eyes dropping lower as fingers brush over something good and there’s this hot intake of breath that Lance knows and loves so much. It works at his pulse again and has him swallowing and not anywhere near ready for the new grouping of videos.

Because that’s when things kick into overdrive. That’s when it slams hot and heavy and the camera change has K filming over his shoulder on a sloppily-made bed, face out of shot but voice controlled and hitting Lance where it fucking counts as he pops his ass a little higher to meet the guy fucking him from behind. And Lance has damn near died and gone to heaven because K gets it all. He gets the slap of the guy’s hips. His own little grunts close to the camera. The creak of the bed and his occasional hum of pleasure. He gets all of it.

And Lance can’t fucking move from his spot, lips parted a bit because holy shit. This is it. This is what the whole ‘dm for snapchat prices’ shit is about. This is why he’s charging.

K’s fucking an actual person.

Lance’s phone hops to Snapchat’s home screen way too quickly. It has him blinking. Gets him sliding back over to make sure he watched every single one because holy-... God damn. That shit was super fucking hot - he’s so glad he didn’t try to watch it in the backseat with everyone.

The option to reply with chat is there - always is. But Lance’s brain is a little bit scrambled and very much _southern_ in his body right now so he simply takes another breath, nodding to himself and sliding his phone back into his jeans pocket and _god damn it he’s got a little bit of an issue._

He’s just gonna walk this shit off real quick before going back to the car.

 

* * *

 

Damn alright so that was really quite something.

Lance is very much into this.

Very much wants to voice his appreciation.

Isn’t quite sure what to say without it coming out as “wow you look so fucking good with another guy’s dick up your ass wow i got instantly hard from that shit”.

So he says nothing.

He just-... He just doesn’t say a single thing.

 

* * *

 

It takes him another weekend to crack the code. The mystery text.

On Friday, K’s first snap says _10pm ct @erenboy_

Which translates to ‘hey I’ll be posting more videos at 10pm central time and the guy fucking me will be @erenboy’. From Tumblr probably.

Lance isn’t sure why he found it so difficult to figure out the first time. The rush of intrigue? Maybe. Probably. Anyway he’s gloriously home and alone this time when @erenboy films from the top down, K’s chest blushing a cute red in the low light.

Lance eats it up and appreciates it and isn’t afraid to admit that he would kill a man to be @erenboy right about now.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t reply. Doesn’t send anything to k-baby.

He probably should since he’s getting this shit for free, but he doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

It’s judgement day.

The Reckoning.

The Rapture, if you will - their professor God Himself tasked with delivering judgement on the rest of their very souls.

It’s taken some doing, but Lance’s oceanology paper is complete and fully sourced and as good as it’s ever gonna get, quite frankly, so he submits it online and Hunk submits his online and Pidge submits theirs online and they all escape to the campus diner to eat their sorrows away.

The truly ungodly number of onion rings sitting in front of Lance waiting for consumption is supposed to be easing away his troubles, but they haven’t kicked in yet. Or maybe he hasn’t eaten enough. Maybe he’s yet to cross the threshold between hating himself for his paper and hating himself for ingesting enough onion rings to kill a small horse.

Only time will tell.

Across the way, Pidge is doing a very good job at being gracious - is forgoing any sort of inkling regarding how completely sure they are they’ll get top marks.

Lance appreciates it.

Tries to move on for his own sake.

Shoves four onion rings into his mouth right as the little _bloop_ of a new Tumblr message calls out from where he’s holding his phone under the table.

It’s k-baby.

_enjoying your free subscription?_

Lance lets out a long breath through his nose, not exactly the most attractive thing to do as he continues to munch with full cheeks like a chipmunk.

He knew he should’ve said something.

**for sure man. didnt know what to expect but wow**

Is that okay? He’s not sure why he’s asking because he already sent it. There’s no taking it back.

Shit, he got grease on his phone.

_good_

Lance wipes it away with his flimsy little napkin, finally finishing his mouthful as it dawns on him that he should most likely be saying more.

**lucky dudes**

There.

Nah, more.

**hope they appreciate lol**

Pidge scoops a gigantic spoonful of chocolate ice cream into their mouth across the table. Says something about a meteor shower happening soon.

K hits him back with a:

_they do_

_mostly_

It’s just enough for Lance to take a second, onion ring poised in the air.

Mostly?

**u know them personally or**

He might be getting too nosy with that, but he can’t deny his genuine curiosity around these random people. But k-baby knows what he’s doing. Maybe they’re not as random as they seem.

_some_

Okay. Alright. _Some,_ but not _all._

**where do the other ones come from then lol**

The onion ring he pops into his mouth is especially crunchy, ice clinking together as he reaches for his soda and gives a swig. But what comes next has the straw freezing still in his mouth.

_you asking for yourself? or for the general curiosity_

Lance’s stomach flips. Just a little. Intrigue as heavy as when his phone lights up with his snaps. Because...

... _is_ Lance asking for himself?

Listen, it’s not like he’d say _no_ if the opportunity to fill those shoes ever arose, it’s just… Is that what K wants to hear right now? Doesn’t he get enough people slobbering over him daily?

Yes. He does.

But damn, would Lance treat him right if he had the chance…

**just tryna figure u out lol**

There are so many other things he could have said. Something more concrete. More definitive. But he’s being respectful and he’s tired and he’s a little turned on _suprise surprise._ So. That’s what he goes for. _That._

He doesn’t get anything back.

 

* * *

 

They’ve got a month of waiting while their prof decides their fate.

On one hand Lance kinda digs it because the worst is over. On the other, waiting is something he’s never been very good at. The silence. Everything up in the air.

It’s the calm before the storm and he’s gonna fucking lose it if something doesn’t come along to break this shit up soon.

 

* * *

 

It comes.

Quick and without warning and as Lance is casually scrolling through the k-baby tag one night.

There’s the usual reposts and people trying to reach out without luck and all that, but then Lance’s attention snags on a picture - or, a screenshot actually - of a series of asks sent in and answered and put up for everyone to see.

 _k-baby said:_ _  
_ _take it down. i made it really fucking clear that the only recording allowed was thru my phone_

It was sent in to someone named @tradeitoff - a name Lance remembers from the most recent set of weekend snaps - who answers with:

**_lol you should be happy youre getting more exposure ;) ;) ;)_ **

Lance frowns. Can’t help but move onto the next one...

 _k-baby said:_ _  
_ _i dont need your exposure fucking take it down NOW_

**_damn super feisty where was that last weekend huh?_ **

And then the end...

 _k-baby said:_ _  
_ _this is the last time im gonna ask you to take it down before shit starts to get real bad for you_

It’s all in the screenshot, one after the other. And underneath it all is @tradeitoff’s text.

**_lmao @k-baby being a straight up little bitch_ **

It’s got Lance’s stomach turning sour, his brows knitting together because _what-..._ What the hell? Okay fuck this guy, first of all. And second, what are they even talking about?

He thumbs over to @tradeitoff’s page, scrolling through a few BDSM posts and then finally landing on what he’s looking for.

It’s the video. Only about 15 seconds but for sure the one in question. Shot full body and from some sort of shelf or table or something but it’s definitely him and K and-...

He shouldn’t watch it. Lance. It’s obviously an issue. The still image is already enough to turn his stomach again, the guy’s grip intense and K’s face buried in his own arms at the foot of the bed. He also shouldn’t read what’s written underneath it in the post. But he does. He reads it. And his blood starts to boil.

**_500 new followers → full video release_ **

This guy. He’s… He’s using K to get more followers. Oh _absolutely fucking not._

Lance fires up the instant messaging window to @tradeitoff.

Glares, fingers stilled.

Huffs and closes out of it and pulls up his window to @k-baby instead.

Glares.

Waits.

Huffs and closes out of Tumblr entirely and chucks his phone onto the coffee table in front of him with a clatter so he can cross his arms and just sit. Just think. Just take a goddamn second and realize this has nothing to do with him and he needs to mind his own business for once.

It was the calm before the storm and he just _had_ to ask for something to break it up.

He should’ve clarified that he meant something happening to _him._

 

_ _ _

 

A full twenty minutes go but then Lance is right back up in @tradeitoff’s shit again, angrily refreshing with the morbid hope that something involving K will pop up. Something more. Something better. An apology to him or a confirmation that he’ll take the video down or _something._

And well...just like before, Lance gets what he asks for. But not the way he wants it.

**_already at 392 new followers. keep it up and youll get that full @k-baby vid ;)_ **

He swears to god he’s ready to smack someone. Truly. Honestly.

But it’s not his place and K’s got so many followers that he’s sure someone’s got his back unless they...don’t...? Unless...they’re all just here for the jerkoff... ...don’t really care about K as a person as long as they get that promised full video...

He doesn’t exit out when he pulls up his messages with K this time. No, he stays true and doesn’t back down and types it out, sending it off without hesitation.

**hey man so not my business like at all but fuck one dude in particular and just checkin in to see if ur ok. bc fuck that guy.**

He really truly doesn’t know if he’s gonna get an answer. Judging off of his admittedly limited (but still way more frequent than everyone else) chatting with him, K’s not exactly a talker. He definitely seems like the type of guy to keep stuff that isn’t absolutely necessary to share inside.

Maybe Lance should quickly add something on. Just in case.

**u prob got it covered and everything. ur a big boy n all that just. idk i got ur back is all i wanna say.**

Cheesy. Childish. Probably a bit too intimate-

_are you home_

Lance blinks - surprised, to say the least. But…

**yeah im home**

He just didn’t think K would be responding so quickly. If it were him, Tumblr would be the last fucking place on Earth he’d wanna be right now. And yet...

_can you skype_

Something in Lance’s chest flutters. Very lightly. But it’s not adrenaline.

 **yeah** he says. **yeah gimme a sec**

The next few moments blur - a muddle of preparation and chargers being plugged in and that weird flutter by his rib cage as he makes sure everything is set up to the best of his ability.

Then...the anxiety inducing ring of the Skype call…

And the screen maximizing into clarity…

And the familiar slope of K’s shoulders.

“Hey man…” Lance’s voice is a little too soft for what it should be. Especially when he’s got a built in microphone to be dealing with. But he knows he’s just loud enough when he gets it in response - small - just as soft:

_“Hi…”_

Neither of them are acting the way they should be and that shit’s gotta stop right now. Lance will make sure of it.

“So how ya doin’?” he grins warmly, “Gettin’ ready to go beat a motherfucker up, or what…”

It’s supposed to be a joke. Maybe not a ‘ha-ha’ sort of joke, but at least a smile.

Except he can’t see K’s face, so…

Yeah…

Alright, he’s just gotta say it. “You know that’s bullshit, what that guy’s doing to you.” Just on the off-chance K hasn’t heard it from anyone else. “And you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna but like… _Dude… Fuck_ that guy…”

Maybe a little shared shit-talking will do the trick. Sometimes that’s all you need. To just totally annihilate someone’s very being.

 _“I told him just my phone,”_ K finally says, voice still low but with considerably more passion. _“I_ told _him.”_

“Yeah.” Nice - time for backup. “No- yeah I’m sure you did, man.”

_“And he just fucking...did it anyway…”_

“A total dick move, is what that is.” Oh, Lance has so got this. Support for the win. “He should be thanking _you,_ honestly. If he seriously needs followers that bad then he must be total shit in the first place.”

That one...got off the rails a little, regrettably. Lance can tell because the buzz between them falls flat. And whatever K was building up to is lost. And there’s this weird, heavy silence between them that he’s gotta make up for like _right fucking now._

Except…

He doesn’t know what to say. Which is so dumb because he was just _so_ confident in his abilities to hype K up, but lost it just as quickly.

And shit… He’s gotta say something. Has to bring this back around. Needs to pick it back up from where he dropped it so-

_“Did you watch it…”_

It’s not a question. Very quiet.

Has Lance darting his eyes away and then back in confusion. “Huh?”

The other end of the call lags for a moment...maybe...or maybe K just stopped moving.

Then...

 _“The video…”_ he says, _“...did you watch it…”_

A moment of connection is all it takes before Lance is jumping into action - carefully, mind you  - but determined. “Oh. _No_ \- no way, dude-”

_“You don’t have to lie-”_

“-I’m not.” Holy shit, why the hell would he lie about that? “I saw his post with all the asks first before anything else, so by the time I got to th-”

_“You saw those?”_

“The-” God, this is hard to do with no facial expressions to go off of. “The asks? Yeah, he’s a total asshole.”

_“I’m not a little bitch.”_

“No. No definitely not, man.”

That seems to sit well with K. Or at least...Lance is assuming it does. Because he doesn’t say anything after that. But that could also mean he’s dropped the ball again.

“Uh...anyway…” Time to tie it all back together. “I didn’t know how to like...help? ‘Cause I figured...if I report the video then aren’t I technically reporting you too? Like...isn’t there a whole thing about how you’re not supposed to post sexual content or whatever?” He’s pretty sure there is. “I didn’t wanna end up throwing you under the bus right next to him, you know? But then again - I mean - this all hinges on the Tumblr staff actually doing anything ever and we both know that’s a long shot, right?”

He ends it with a little grin - a light note - a hit or a miss or somethingsomethingsomething but he doesn’t fucking _know_ because-

“Um. So listen…” He’s gotta be careful with it. Boundary-respectful. “Any way you could just like...tilt your camera up a little? Just so I can see if you’re smiling or not?”

K wastes no time. _“I don’t show my face.”_

And Lance gets that. “Yeah. Yeah no - for sure. It’s just… I’m bad at reading your tone and I wanna make sure I’m actually being helpful and not making shit worse.” Does that make sense? Has anything he’s said in the past five minutes made _any_ goddamn sense? “You can say no if you want. I know mystery is your whole…” he makes a broad gesture toward the camera, “...thing…”

And of course said mystery continues, no facial expressions to read and only a rub of the inside of K’s arm to show his hesitation.

_“You’re not screen recording or anything, are you…?”_

Lance frowns. “N-...wait, that’s a thing? I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

_“It’s a thing.”_

“Since when?”

_“Since forever.”_

Lance sits back a little. Interesting... Anyway - focus. “I’m not recording - no worries. Just purely in it for the good ol’ fashion social cues.”

What he says must ease some of the concern swirling around on the other side of the camera, because the worried rubbing drops off. There’s still a good amount of hesitation though. Lance doesn’t need much to figure _that_ out.

But then there’s some shifting. Some glitched movement. And then K’s reaching blessedly up toward the camera - motion blur and the muffled impact of fingers brushing against the microphone but it doesn’t matter when it all tilts upward, the webcam panning up past that pretty neck to stilled lips - parted - up the gentle curve of the bridge of his nose - up and up and over and past his dark hairline and suddenly the air is being knocked out of Lance’s lungs because-...

He’s…

K blinks. _Blinks._ Has these big, _pretty eyes_ that suckerpunch Lance right in the stomach with the way they stare into the camera at him like that. Like...there’s something overwhelming clinging to his chest and the gentle furrow of his eyebrows. Like he’s worried. Like he’s _vulnerable…_

There’s a subtle shift of his shoulders as he glances away and then looks back with a frown, voice just barely coming through... _“...what..."_

Lance…- He blinks. A few times. Needs to get his shit together, wow. “No. N- uh… Nothing.”

K thinks he’s judging him - his face. That shit is _perfectly_ clear now that Lance can read his expression. And yes, okay, he might be a little bit correct but he’s most definitely not judging in the bad way, alright?

“Do you-...um...”

It’s the beginning of a question.

A question Lance doesn’t remember starting.

Shit, what was he saying?

_“...I think I’m gonna-”_

“BDSM!”

K’s eyebrows shoot up, eyes still tired. _“What?”_

But Lance is back on his game. “BDSM. That guy’s got a ton of BDSM stuff on his blog. I bet we can find something in there that breaks Tumblr’s terms and have him banned.”

It’s a longshot but it might work. Hopefully. And yes, Lance thought of this during those twenty minutes he was supposed to be minding his own business.

“That way you’re not involved at all,” he concludes. “Your name won’t even come up.”

K’s gaze drops to think on it, lips pressing together as he does so. That’s a good sign! Right? That he’s actually considering it?

_“...worth a shot, I guess.”_

“Yeah?” Lance is beaming and he knows it. “Yeah! So listen, I can do everything - you don’t have to worry ‘n all that.”

_“Are you sure?”_

“Hell yeah, man. Just gimme a little bit to work through all his shit.” He’s already going through a plan in his head as they speak. Already imagining... _oh god_ going through page after page of that guy’s content...

K must be on the same wavelength, because he says, _“That’s gonna be something.”_

Most definitely something. “Yeah. I’m not looking forward to wading through that hot garbage. But to defend your honor,” Lance throws up a little imaginary shield to his chest for good measure, “it’s worth it.”

There’s no time to realize how mortified he should be because that’s when he hears it - the small little hum of a laugh from the boy on the other side.

K’s grinning when he looks, subdued but cute. The first smile Lance has ever seen from him and _christ,_ there goes that followup suckerpunch to the gut.

“I’m uh-...” he’s gotta get outta here - “I’m gonna go get a jump on it.”

K nods, grin falling but only so he can...nod- yeah okay it’s established that’s he’s nodding ahh-

Whatever - it’s very much enough for Lance to pop his own smile, giving a wave that’s supremely uncool, and then saying, “Alright I’ll talk to you later!” before hitting the End Call button, K’s face disappearing and his laptop brightening to Skype’s homescreen.

Lance closes his eyes.

Lets out his breath through pursed lips.

Collapses back on his couch with a grunt and the very intense need to go for a brisk run.

 _Damn,_ K is incredibly cute.

 

_ _ _

 

Going through a million pages of BDSM porn is enough to kill Lance’s mood like _that._ He’s not gonna get into it for the sake of everyone else, but he watches _a lot of BDSM porn._ Almost so much that he starts to get desensitized to it. Immune. _Almost._

But then he finds it.

The diamond in the rough.

The ticket to shutting this whole thing down once and for all.

**hes got a minor video**

**dude was dumb enough to put it up and brag about the bottom bein 17**

_are you fucking kidding me_

**nope**

**we got him >:)**

 

* * *

 

Four days.

Four days go by and it’s radio silence from the Tumblr staff but it’s also radio silence from @tradeitoff.

Lance bides his time like an aging widow peering out stained glass at the slowly overrunning mansion grounds below.

But then it happens. Out of nowhere. Like God himself swooped down to this Earthly plane to deliver retribution.

**_@tradeitoff - Deactivated_ **

The number of messages Lance spits out at K is intense and a little embarrassing but well-justified, he likes to think. Because it _worked._ It actually fucking worked.

 _why did you do this for me_ K asks - that hesitant, almost concerned tone he took on their last call - Lance can hear it - can hear it just through the words. But...

**because it was a shitty situation. and everybody needs a friend when theyre in a shitty situation**

Even if it’s just the one. Even if it’s just Lance.

_thank you_

It brings a proud little smile to his face - proud but soft.

**id do it again in a heartbeat--**

Lance looks at what he’s typed… Thinks on it… Deletes it word by word and replaces it before sending it off.

**no problem man**

 

* * *

 

All hail the conquering hero.

 

* * *

 

People are starting to get their papers back. The easy graders. The Pidges and the ' _I Came To One (1) Lecture And Am Just Doing This For Any Amount Of Points Now'_ s. It’s been a couple days and Lance keeps checking his email but no luck. Which means he at least didn’t bomb it. But he also didn’t get a super high score.

So.

Yeah.

More waiting, then.

 

* * *

 

_can i ask where you live_

It’s Wednesday night. Very very late. Dark in his room as he squints at his phone, the side of his face smashed in his pillow.

Where he lives?

Why the hell would K care where he lives?

**kinda by detroit but on michigan/indiana border for school**

**unfortunately**

**y**

It’s late and Lance’s brain is muddled. Washed over with that first layer of sleep. Activated just enough to want to wait for K’s response but not enough to actually do it.

His phone is in his hand when it lights up.

But he’s long gone.

_no reason_

_ttyl_

 

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

Everything just sort of slides right back into normality.

Things are once again the way they were before, and if Lance takes a second to unfocus his vision and let it all exist in the background, it’s like the whole @tradeitoff scandal never even happened in the first place.

He keeps on keepin’ on and the autumn leaves keep turning and on Tuesday night Lance gets the snap from K - a well-lit picture of a long, colorfully designed box and some text written underneath.

It takes a second but then Lance is smiling, grin goofy as he can’t help but let out a laugh of amusement.

“No way…”

They’re molds.

For dick popsicles.

_look what i got ;)_

Lance can’t control the little surge of excitement that doesn’t know where to settle in his body. Because this is great. Fucking dick popsicles. Like...from when he had suggested them to K in the replies that one time everyone was being especially gross on his picture.

Wait, right? This is because of that, yeah?

Lance quickly hops over to K’s snap story to confirm and yes. It’s not on there. Which means K’s most likely just snapping him directly. Which means he took Lance’s suggestion and oh damn, this is kind of amazing?

**no way lmao do they actually work**

It’s starting to rain. A slow, steady pitter-patter against Lance’s living room window. But it goes unnoticed the very second K’s response comes in.

Because it’s a video.

Lance thumbs at it immediately, his curiosity piqued and eyes widening and heart skipping a few dozen beats at the sight of it - of K’s whole magnificent face once again - looking cute and he’s shirtless and _very much_ getting the molds to work because he’s got a popsicle perched in his hand as they speak, his eyes never breaking contact with the camera as he brings it up and gives a nice, long, exaggerated lick up the side of the pretend dick and _oookay yeah, he’s getting them to work._

Lance swallows. Is goddamn mesmerized. Can’t stop watching those heavy eyelids and hot breath as K purposely laps his tongue up the light blue ice.

The video has to be more than ten seconds long because it doesn't loop. And when it ends, it’s got Lance just as frozen, mouth dropped open a little because...um... _fuck?_

What does he say.

What the hell is he supposed to say to that?

**holy shit**

**knew ud like them lol**

It gets him another video - a blessing - rain coming hard and fast against his window now. But it easily takes backseat to the little slurp as K swirls his tongue around the head of the popsicle and then takes a good helping of it into his mouth, his eyes fluttering closed as he bobs his head just a bit.

Lance bites his bottom lip, gym shorts getting tight and his common sense scattering to the wind as he watches. Because this one loops. This one he’s _got -_ as much as he can, at least - and the sight and the little slurp - and just-...holy shit, the crazy fact that K’s doing this for _him…_

But he can’t sit here and watch the same ten seconds over and over again, no matter how badly he wants to. Because that means he’s leaving K to himself on the other end.

**what flavor i s that**

It’s a little messy but he doesn’t care. And his dick doesn’t care. And K doesn’t seem to care because there’s a little pause and then another video. Just like that. And holy shit Lance has died and gone to heaven.

Because it starts off like the other ones, K’s lips slick as they suck, cheeks hollow. Then there’s the slippery _pop_ of the dick from his mouth. And then it trails, and the camera trails, and it follows as K drags the ice slowly down his body - over the curve of his collarbone - a cool, blue path left behind over one of his hard nipples and his sternum and the gentle but tight muscles that lead to his bellybutton, all under the text he’s written below.

 _wanna taste for yourself?_  

The hand Lance passes over his lap leaves him shuddering, eyes closing for the briefest of moments.

**jesus**

**youre killin me here**

It doesn’t take long to start it up. To get a rhythm. To feel a little guilty but then remind himself that this is why K’s snapping him in the first place, and _fuck_ if he isn’t about to give in and touch himself to this shit.

He’s sucking it again in the next video - K - his lips gone blue and cold and fuck those would probably feel so good around Lance’s-

_tell me something dirty_

Another shudder. Straight down Lance’s spine to his toes and his fingertips. It has him making sure the blinds are shut before pulling himself out. And he’s giving himself some nice long strokes to alleviate the tight ache right as the next video comes in.

_you touching yourself?_

Lance breathes out, watching the way K drags his tongue up the popsicle, eyes straight into the camera.

 **definitely touching myself** he types into the chat. Really cohesively actually. A feat when he’s got his dominant hand working his dick and the phone jostling lightly in the other.

K swirls and slurps and Lance doesn’t have his headphones but it’s still hot as hell. Still gets straight to him. Has him thankful and eager and maybe a little selfish with the thought of being the only one of the receiving end but he types it anyway.

**can u say somethingn**

He’s already feeling it. Already too close. But it’s happening and @k-baby’s privately snapping him and this is definitely an extenuating circumstance, he thinks. Something special. Has him opening the next snap with a little spike of adrenaline in his chest when he hears K’s voice, smooth and heated in a way he’s never heard in their couple of skype calls.

 _“It’s blue raspberry…”_ he murmurs, giving the head a little lick. Then his eyes flick back up to the camera, the corner of his mouth smirking so subtly but so dangerously as he finishes, _“...but I bet you taste better…”_

Lance’s brows furrow, his head tilting back against the couch because _fuuuck_ and there’s still the obscenely slick sounds of K sucking that popsicle off and fuck- _oh -_ oh _fuck he’s gonna cum - holy-_

The snap cuts off but he’s already gone, back arching off a touch and eyes squeezed tight and holy _shit…_

Holy shit…

...holy shit...he’s really gotta work on his stamina when it comes to this boy…

Outside, it’s starting to storm. Long, deep rumblings of rolling thunder in the distance.

Inside, Lance is staring up at the ceiling, brain hazy in its post-orgasm state.

He’s got a hand sticky with his own cum but he’s just gonna-...just gonna sit here...for a second...

Just gonna get his bearings.

Yes.

That’s what he’s gonna do.

 

_ _ _

 

K must do this enough to know when the deed is done. Because the snaps stop coming after that.

Yes. He just lets Lance sit there with his own thoughts for the rest of the night, the storm drawing closer and closer outside.

 

* * *

 

The rain continues into the next morning and the next day and the day after that. It makes Lance’s jogging routine a thing of the past and leaves him with Too Much Energy and Hunk must sniff it out right away because he insists they go to the campus pool to work in some laps.

Lance is already intimately aware of how much of a genius his friend is, but this swimming shit? It tires a motherfucker out like _that._ Any excess energy that he had stored up gets drained straight out of him until he’s at a comfortable level of noodle-leg, lounging against the side of the empty pool as Hunk floats around in the dim overhead lights.

(Did Lance mention they’re here after hours? They’re here after hours.)

They-

(Oh - did Lance also mention that Hunk is in cahoots with whoever runs this place and that’s why they’re here after hours? Because yeah.)

Anyway. They’re alone. Very chill. Get to look up through the glass sections of the ceiling and star gaze. It’s almost like they’re at the lake, a similar sense of calmness permeating through Lance’s entire body until Hunk starts saying some stuff about that guy they brought with to the drive-in movie a few weekends ago.

The one with Lance in the backseat.

Luis.

Apparently that _was_ a double-date. Which makes Lance feel bad, but not nearly as bad as when Hunk very casually lets him know that Luis likes him.

It’s got his noodle-legs stilling in the water, the surface rippling as Lance brings his arms out to prop his elbows on the edge without a word.

He should’ve been paying more attention. Should’ve taken that shit more seriously. Apparently he did _just enough_ to keep the interest there. When he was in the car, that is. You know...excluding the time he was huddled behind the bathrooms watching k-baby get fucked.

Hunk floats by, eyes still to the moon hanging above them.

Another double date is in the works. If Lance agrees. Hunk and Shay will be going regardless, but the invitation is there if both other parties accept.

Lance’s eyes drop back down to the gleaming surface of the water in thought.

But he doesn’t answer.

 

_ _ _

 

He misses the new video but pulls it up when he’s all ready for bed.

K’s riding a dildo in the kitchen.

Chest down.

No face.

Lance listens closely for the song and half-smiles bittersweetly when he hears it’s Heaven.

 

* * *

 

His one free month of Snapchat subscription is coming to a close. It’s been fun and all and he won’t lie, he’ll definitely miss it, but he still can’t afford to be throwing money away. So.

He opens up his Tumblr chat with K to voice his parting words when he sees the new message waiting for him, throwing his game off entirely.

_gonna be in your area in a few weeks_

Lance...has to read it over again. And once more. And one more time, just to make sure the little spark of excitement in his chest is justified. Because… Wait… _What?_

**u are?**

He sends it off but doesn’t exit out of the chat, fingers tapping against the sides of his phone as he waits for a response.

Impatience.

**for what?**

Impatience, is what it is.

And he could’ve just held off because the reply comes in not two seconds later.

_meeting up with a couple ppl for snapchat. lemme know if you wanna be one of them._

Lance stares, all sorts of stuff going on in his head and his chest and his pulse. Because K’s...coming _here?_ To film stuff? And he’s… Oh wow, he’s asking Lance if he’s interested. Oh wow. Oh boy. Oh fucking hell, this is happening.

Lance exits out of Tumblr, tossing his phone onto his bathroom counter and steeling himself with a hand on each side of the sink as he gives his reflection a long hard look in the mirror.

Because it’s decision time. It’s decision time and Lance has to decide what kind of a man he’s gonna be.

Is he gonna be respectful and decline and move on with his life? Or is he gonna meet up with a guy from the internet that he doesn’t even know and fuck him in front of who knows however many Snapchat viewers?

Because there’s cons to each side. And there’s definitely _definitely_ pros.

And-

And…

And he’s gonna go to bed. That’s what he’s gonna do.

He’s gonna go the fuck to bed.

 

* * *

 

(Okay but could you imagine what it’d be like to actually meet K face to face and talk to him and pick his brain and fuck that cute ass into the next morning because Lance is imagining it.)

 

* * *

 

Hunk gets his oceanology paper back.

Because apparently the world does continue to spin on regardless of what’s happening in Lance’s brain.

He scores a very high B-equivalent and heaves a sigh of relief and Lance is happy for him but can’t fully commit to the celebration because he’s still got his lack of a grade lingering over his head.

They go to a free music fest in the town over. Shay is there and Luis is there and Lance buys him a beer before they spot out a place to chill.

They’re the big-ass cans. The 24-ouncers. Usually expensive as hell but dropped down for some reason so they keep drinking and Lance keeps buying his and Luis’s and things are nice and loose as an acoustic set gets going on stage a little bit away.

The autumn breeze is so nice that Lance _has_ to tip his head back and enjoy it. Has to let his eyes close and has to smile when they open and Luis is watching him. The leaves on the ground crunch under Lance’s sneakers as he keeps his footing in the grass and wonders if it’s still gonna be this nice when k-baby comes.

It should be.

Autumn overstays its welcome around here.

Wow, he’s really gotta piss all the sudden.

More crunchy leaves. Hunk’s hand on his shoulder as he passes. Lots and lots and lots of couples strewn out on the grass everywhere he looks as he makes his way back. Laughing. Kissing. Being all romantic and everything.

And Lance… Lance is gonna tell a little secret. He’s gonna take a second and just let the truth out and be honest for once in his life.

All that? Everything he just passed? All those people?

He wants that shit.

Wants that shit _real_ bad.

Casual hookups and no strings are nice and all but-...

Damn.

He wants it.

Wants it _real fucking bad._

He takes a second and lets the breeze sort him out a little before he gets too in his feelings, the smell of the dead leaves it carries mellowing him down.

“You alright…?”

Lance’s eyes drop open, lids still heavy, voice registering without needing to look.

“Yeah man…” It’s Luis. “I’m good.”

 

_ _ _

 

He doesn’t remember a lot of the rest of the night but he knows he keeps his shit together and that’s all he can ask for.

 

* * *

 

He’s gonna do it.

He’s gonna meet up with k-baby.

When the hell else is he ever gonna get this opportunity?

**hey man what weekend exactly r u comin in**

_17th to 18th_

Two days. It’s a Friday - Saturday.

**im good to meet up**

_nice. we’ll figure out details_

**sounds good**

Lance exits out and sits back, a long breath escaping him as he runs a hand through his hair.

Why the hell is his pulse so crazy right now.

 

* * *

 

He’s got three weeks. Which quickly turns to two weeks. Which quickly turns to one but by then, they’ve worked out all the specifics. Lance doesn’t know about any of the other people but he and K are doing their thing right off the bat on Friday night. Which is kind of exciting and kind of gives him a big head again but he’s not going to read into it because he should be worrying about other stuff.

Like whether or not to tell Hunk. Because you know...the whole “meeting someone off the internet” thing. Except he’s not sure if this really counts because he’s been talking to K for a few months now and has seen his face (haha @ everyone else) and he’s gotta assume that’s more going for him than the other people K’s seeing this weekend?

But again. He doesn’t know.

But he’s got adrenaline.

And he’s got condoms.

And he’s got a full day committed to cleaning his apartment just in case they end up going there and not where K is staying, which - he doesn’t know about any of that either. BUT… It’s okay. Because he’s just gonna go with the flow. And he hasn’t been this genuinely excited for something in a while now so he’s riding pretty high.

And now he’s got two days until they meet and he’s wondering if he should tell Hunk again. And maybe just...leave the whole camboy part out. Like...just casually mention that he’s chilling with someone for the first time but not necessarily who and not necessarily from where and not necessarily for what purpose.

He’s going to.

He does.

He tells Hunk and he’s got one day until they meet and suddenly Lance is having second thoughts. Bad thoughts. The kind that align themselves with his thoughts about his paper because what if K thinks he’s-… What if he’s not... _good enough..._ What if they meet and the image of Lance in K’s head doesn’t align with _actual_ Lance and what if it’s just one great big evening of disappointment?

Except he doesn’t have time to worry about it more than that because “today” is passing and “tomorrow” is here and he’s sitting in the bar and the hype is back. The hype is _raring._ He’s got his drink and his phone on the table and all he can do is wait. Wait and not drink his whole beer. Wait and be patient and calm himself down because he doesn’t want to be annoying once K actually shows up.

Wait and…

Wait.

Just wait.

Just be fucking cool.

Lance takes a sip of his beer, replaying their last conversation in his head before K caught his flight out here. He’s gotta admit, the surprise that K seemed to have around the whole concept of meeting for a drink first was a little unexpected. Kind of made it seem like Lance was doing too much or _something._ He doesn’t know. But that’s what they agreed on. So he’s just gonna sit here and wait and be calm until-

The door opens, bell loud enough to hear over the bar-talk even this early in the night. Lance looks up, pulse setting high. Waits.

It’s three girls.

Not K.

Alright, anyway. Calming down. Right. At least they don’t have to worry about the whole ‘oh I’ll be wearing blue’ ‘oh, I’ll be on fire riding a horse’ thing. They already know what the other person looks like. Takes the whole anxiety and guess-work out of-

Another ring - has Lance’s eyes shooting up - heart spiking in his chest for-...for a dude and his girlfriend.

Not K.

Alright. Calming down.

Lance checks his phone, taking another sip of his beer in the process. No new messages on Tumblr. No snaps. Just a nondescript link from Pidge, which means it’s a meme too long to screenshot. He’ll look at it later. When he can appreciate it. When he doesn’t have this energy buzzing in his entire body.

The bell above the door rings but Lance keeps exiting out of Pidge’s message, taking one more drink and then glancing up and beer caught in his mouth because that’s when everything muffles over. When everything zeros in.

Because it’s him. Moving from the door to the bar.

It’s K.

Lance’s heart dips from his chest to the floor and back again. Settles high. Somewhere past his rib cage.

He should go over there but his legs won’t move so he sits. Stuck. Staring from across the room as K leans on the bar and says something to the bartender, mouth moving silently.

Lance swallows. Finally. Gently sets his bottle back on the table and can’t help but stare as he watches K nod to the bartender and then give a little glance around once he’s left alone. He’s scoping the place out. Searching faces. Tapping the edge of his credit card on the bar top. Looking from table to table to table and flitting over Lance for a second before-...before...

K’s eyes flick back over and _lock this time._ Card halted midair. Like he’s processing and the rest of his body won’t move.

It’s zeroed in and everything else is muffled out and Lance can feel his pulse in his throat. Can hear it in his ears. Finds the ability to move when K’s attention is dragged back into the here and now and he’s very clearly asking the bartender to repeat herself and then handing his card over.

Then it’s another glance up to Lance. And Lance doesn’t know what his own face is doing. But K’s signing the paper and grabbing his beer and he’s moving away from the bar and he’s-

Shit he’s coming. He’s coming over, okay be calm.

Lance should stand. He should greet him or something - yes - and he goes to, turning in his chair but stopping as a large group of people pass through in front of him. There are too many. Isn’t enough room. It keeps him in his chair but K seems to sneak into the chair across from him just fine and-

“Hey,” he says, smile subtle but there in the low light.

And Lance sort of has a moment. Is thrown off by too many things and just needs a second, but- “Hey.”

K sets his beer down on the small, high table. Gives the bar one more little glance over with a possibly sarcastic: “Cute.”

But Lance doesn’t really have the sources to read into it right now. Yeah, no. They’re all working overtime on appreciating this boy. Right here. Sitting right in front of him at this exact moment. In real life. And just-...

“Jesus Christ…”

K’s attention drops back to him, brows furrowing a little in confusion. “What.”

And like-... How does he-... “Nothing.” Holy shit. “Nothing I just-...”

He is _so. fucking. gorgeous._

K waits a moment longer, that confusion furrowing deeper. And no no no, that’s not good, so-

“I’m Lance.” He declares it. Saves it. “Like, that’s my actual name.”

It’s got that guarded, half-grin returning just in time. _Saves it._ “Wait, so you’re telling me _‘sunnies-out-hunnies-out’_ isn’t the name given to you at birth...?”

It’s a joke. Deadpan, but a joke right away. And it’s got Lance both relieved and suddenly realizing that-...that oh god he’s been interacting with K the entire time under that name. “Shit…” he laughs. “Oh no, is that what you called me in your head this whole time?”

“No.”

“Thank god…”

“I didn’t really-...” K thinks on it, expression even, “You were kind of like… An enigma…”

Lance snorts. “An enigma.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm-”

“A feeling.”

“A _good_ feeling?”

Their eyes lock again, pensive.

K’s are glossy in the light. Thick lashes. Dark circles under heavy makeup.

He looks more tired than he should be.

“Keith.”

Lance blinks. “What?”

“My name. The K is for Keith.”

Another blink.

 _Oh._ Oh, okay this-... This feels like a big step. Is this a big step?

K-... Keith reaches for his beer again, taking a long drink worth a couple swallows and then looking elsewhere once he sets it back down.

His name is _Keith._

“So then.” Lance’s pulse is still going about three hundred miles a minute, so whenever that wants to work itself out, that’ll be great. “You seemed like, abnormally surprised by the concept of drinks when I suggested it.”

Maybe this isn’t the direction they should be going, but Lance is the one leading for some reason, so this direction it shall be.

“I was.”

“But why.”

“We don’t really-...” Keith pauses for a moment, something happening in his head. But then: “No one’s really interested in that stuff. They just wanna meet up, get it in, and move on.”

Lance’s grin of attention is starting to feel fake on his face. Because _huh?_ “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“They don’t-...like...wanna talk?”

The look he gets is pointed. Very similar to the look Pidge gives him when he says something especially stupid. Only it’s got a certain unique spark to it when it’s coming from K. “Talk?”

“Yeah.”

“No, they don’t wanna talk.”

“Well _why.”_

“Because they wanna get it in. They wanna meet up, get it in, and move on.”

Lance taps his fingers on the table. Right. He just said that. “You just said that.” He shouldn’t have to repeat himself.

His change in attitude doesn’t go unnoticed, something softening in the boy across from him when enough time has gone by. “Anyway, it-... I like it… _This…”_ he gestures around them vaguely. “I like...that you suggested it...”

It comes out pieced together and not exactly confident. Like he’s not used to speaking his mind. At least not in this way.

And that’s not really that big of a surprise, judging off their past conversations, but Lance still appreciates the effort just as much. “Well…” he lets out a sigh, cracking his knuckles under the table. “Good. Thought I overstepped or somethin’.”

“You didn’t.”

“Good. That’s…” Lance nods to himself, “...that’s good…”

Another moment of silence. Not exactly awkward. Not all that uncomfortable.

Lance’s gaze has fallen to the label on his beer but he can feel K’s eyes on him - _Keith’s_ eyes. He can just see enough. The slightly worried upturn of his brows. The slow blink as he looks up at him through those thick eyelashes Lance just learned he has.

He can feel it all.

“You’re really fucking handsome…”

Lance has to glance up at that. Can’t ignore the spike in his chest. Is willing to say that it does a little flip of vanity too as he watches those eyes work their way down his face and then back up again.

Because _damn._

“Oh. Thanks,” he says. Stupidly. “You’re really fucking handsome too.”

Keith’s heavy blink eases into heavy eyelids. Heavy eyelids and that small smirk returning. “Thanks.”

“Do you...uh…” Wow, this guy really can turn on a dime just like that, huh. “You gonna want another one?” He points to the beer growing warm beside K’s hand. “I’ll get it while I’m up.”

Keith confers with the bottle, giving it an easy swish by the neck and then bringing it to his lips. “Thanks. Just one more.”

“One more,” Lance agrees, getting to his feet with a little screech from the chair. “You got it.”

He knows he shouldn’t be leaving him alone - that that’s bad etiquette and all that - but he just needs a sec. Like one or two secs. And sex. Hopefully in that order.

The bar has filled with considerably more people now, his trek up to the bartender proving more of a challenge. But Lance accepts it with open arms. Uses the time to cool off. To calm down. To gather his thoughts.

Okay one: holy shit K-... _Keith_ god damn it...  _Keith_ is somehow way hotter in person.

Two: not only is he hotter, but he’s got this weird, closed-off-but-trying-to-be-sweet thing going for him.

And three: he doesn’t seem to care about Lance’s total sudden lack of game. Like at all. He sees it and recognizes it and is still into him enough to flash fuck-me eyes at him from across the table.

Speaking of.

Lance cranes his neck to see above the people blocking the way, but it’s no use. Damn.

_-buzz-_

Oh. Actually. Speak of the devil.

 **_Snapchat - now_ ** **_  
_ ** _from k-baby_

It’s the picture. _The_ picture. Their two bottles and Lance’s sunglasses placed strategically and the text blocked squarely.

 _@sunnies-out-hunnies-out_ _  
_ _10pm ct_

The smirk that bubbles to Lance’s face is out of this fucking world. He can’t believe this shit is actually real. If someone told him all this would be happening three months ago, there’s no way he would’ve believed them. But here he is. In this bar. Taking these two beers and bringing them back to the table and setting Keith’s down in front of him with a little clink.

“Ta-da.”

“Thanks,” is Keith’s distracted response.

And Lance is over his shoulder just long enough to see it go down - the lightning fast action of opening people’s chat responses on Snapchat and exiting out of them without even looking. It’s instant. Keith’s not even reading them.

Lance can’t say he blames him.

“I dunno how you do it,” he admits, sliding back into his chair on the other side once again.

It gets Keith to look up at him, quickly, but not as quick as he was just moving through those messages. He knows he’s been caught. Seems...maybe to feel a little guilty, which completely fucking blows Lance’s mind because-

“No. Dude, I didn’t mean that in a judgey way. Like, I literally have no idea how you put up with dudes slobbering all over you 24/7. That shit would drive me insane.”

His explanation has the look of guilt vanishing from Keith’s face, several blue message bubbles still to be swiped through, but his phone tossed on the table regardless. “It’s fine.”

“There’s no way.”

“You get used to it.”

“Used to it? Everyone’s a fucking pig.”

“Not everyone.” He looks up for that. Makes the eye contact. Holds it and keeps it, but this time it’s not the same. This time, there’s something there. Something different. Something...warm, almost.

Lance doesn’t know what it means. Doesn’t know what to do with it. Is having trouble being on the receiving end of it so he takes a drink and runs a finger through the condensation ring the bottle left on the table.

It’s loud in here.

Getting louder.

And Keith is still looking at him - pulling at strings in Lance’s chest.

“Do you know why I told you I was coming here?”

Lance drags the water into a swirl. “For Snapchat stuff.”

But, “No,” that must not be what he means because he says, “Do you know why I told _you specifically…”_

The moisture under Lance’s finger dries, leaving his print on the table as he looks up, brow furrowed. Him?

He takes a moment, trying to understand, but… But… “...no...?”

It’s not a good answer. It can’t be. But the way it’s got Keith’s gaze softening again makes it seem like it is one.

Another shared moment. Quiet in the quickly escalating bar. Sweet in a way that Lance can’t put his finger on.

And trust him when he says he wants to.

Keith clears his throat calmly, inhaling through his nose like he’s righting himself again as he straightens in his seat and tips the last of his first beer back. And then, tone soft but decided...

“I kinda wanna leave.”

It takes a second to register, Lance struggling, but then he gets with the picture. “Yeah? Now - I mean, you don’t want your other-”

“Not really.” It’s sitting there, untouched until he scoots it forward. “You want it?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll pay you back,” he smiles softly, both knowing he’s probably not talking about money.

And that’s not what kicks Lance into gear, but it helps, his chair scraping against the floor again, but the bar too loud with the newest addition of a birthday crawl to hear it this time.

Lance leads the way.

Leads them out.

Leads them away from the noise and into the night and toward the direction of his car in the dark parking lot.

The breeze settles him. Brings him back to center. Calms him and has him comfortable speaking again.

“Feelin’ where you’re staying? Or did you wanna go back to my-”

It cuts out when he turns, when he notices Keith not right behind him, but several feet back, several light-years away, his head tilted up and lips parted as his eyes scan the sky - the atmosphere - the _stars…_

Lance smiles to himself, keys jingling in his hand as he stuffs both into his jacket pockets.

He knows that look.

“What big city are you from?”

Keith’s mesmerized. Caught off guard. Still looking but that confused scowl starting to creep forward. “Huh…?”

It’s cute, in a way. Only makes him more endearing.

“Everybody who grew up in a big city gets that look when they come out here,” Lance explains gently. “That whole ‘holy shit there’s stars out - what the fuck’ thing.”

“There’s…” he’s easier to hear now that Lance has backtracked to him, nearly shoulder to shoulder. “There’s just... _so many..._ ”

“Mhm.” Lance indulges and takes a peek into the universe himself, appreciating the moment and the weather and the smell of K’s cologne as the breeze carries it over to him.

It makes him curious, head staying still but eyebrows raising on their own as he chances a side-glance to where Keith’s still taking it all in, clearly in awe.

And yeah. It’s just too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Come on,” he smiles, on the move toward the car but hearing the confusion in Keith’s voice as it trails behind him.

“Where’re we going?”

“I wanna show you somethin’ real quick.”

The drive is less than five minutes.

Less than five minutes is all it takes to leave the rest of the street lights behind and get out onto the open road. It’s just corn fields for a good while. But after that? Open air. Grass. Stretching far out onto the horizon.

Lance takes them down one of the side roads Pidge showed him one time, and is quick to make very clear “I swear I’m not tryna murder you or anything”, but Keith doesn’t seem to be listening anyway - is in his own little world, shoulder swaying against the door as he looks out the passenger side window.

The car crunches the gravel road beneath its tires as they slow to a stop, Lance not even needing to give instructions because Keith’s gone in an instant - straight out and into the night and he’s got this priceless expression of pure fucking wonder when Lance joins him on the side of the road.

He can’t blame him. It’s still enough to take his breath away every single time he makes it out here. Even on a cloudy night. And a cloudy night, it is not.

“Pretty crazy, huh…”

He can feel the smile on his face. The warm energy. Even as Keith stands there in silence next to him.

And if he likes _this,_ shit...Lance knows what’s gonna be the absolute home run.

“Hang on,” he hums, that adrenaline pumping again but in a way he enjoys much more as he steps back around to his trunk, gravel crunching.

He pulls out what he needs and then shuts the hatch with a slam that echoes out into the nighttime around him.

“Do me a favor,” he grins, stepping a few feet into the grass and unfurling the blanket until it slowly eases onto the ground. “First of all, here.” The sweater he throws Keith is old. From when he was in high school. But soft as hell and warm and, “You’re gonna get chilly soon and it’s gonna ruin it.”

He gets a look thrown right back but it’s ignored to focus on straightening out the blanket.

When everything’s just right, Lance collapses back onto the right half, ankles crossed in example. “So you’re just gonna lay down - eyes closed right? And then when you’re all situated, open ‘em and be amazed.”

He follows his own instructions - having done it so many times before - but the outcome is always the same.

Even through the excitement, Lance can feel the hesitation behind him. Was kind of waiting for it, honestly. And he’s pleasantly surprised when he hears the steps over gravel and then grass and then the blanket is dipping under the new weight as it settles next to him.

Lance contains himself. He has to. But the glance over is necessary because he just wants to see it as it’s happening. As Keith does as he’s told, eyes squeezed shut a little too tightly but then opening...widening...taking it all in as the ground disappears and the only thing as far as his vision can stretch is the vast, deep deep expanse of space.

Between them, Keith’s fingers grip into the blanket. A life-line. An anchor.

Lance can’t help but smile.

“Feels like you’re gonna fall in, right...?”

He knows the feeling... Sometimes craves that sensation of being way high up but grounded with his back to the earth… He knows the feeling very well.

And he can recognize it in the speechlessness of the boy next to him. The grip of his hands in the blanket that won’t let up.

Tighter than most.

“Hey…” Lance murmurs, sure to not wreck the moment.

And when Keith’s head turns it’s another galaxy. In his eyes. Glossy - pupils wide and reflecting the stars right back to where a ball of light is bouncing around inside Lance’s rib cage.

And… Lance smiles, as warm as can be. “You’re not gonna fall...” It’s a tease, but comes out far more intimate than intended. “You’re okay…”

Keith stares. Second galaxy. Glossy and falling down the span of Lance’s face before returning.

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t need to. Because the sight is enough. Getting to share someone’s first time. It’s enough.

Lance looks back to the sky, letting his eyes close as the breeze sweeps his bangs off his forehead. And he is all at once peaceful.

All at once satisfied.

All at once floating, back to the ground but still up... ...and up...

...and up...

...and up...

...and-

“..-ey...”

...

“Hey…”

Lance’s eyes drop open, heavy and everything sliding back into where it should be.

And it’s Keith... It’s Keith.

It’s Keith who’s talking.

“Hey,” very softly, voice fragile, “...we fell asleep...”

Lance takes a moment to himself. The sky is where it was. The blanket is where it was. His phone is where it was in his pocket but when he goes to check the time his muscles are tight and the numbers say 2:18am.

Shit… They really did fall asleep.

“Mm…” Lance hums tiredly as he hoists himself up, running a hand through his hair and gathering himself now that he’s sitting up. “Sorry...I’ll drive you back to...uh…”

Wherever.

The blanket gets thrown back into the trunk and they shuffle into the car and Lance is just awake enough to follow the GPS back to the Air-BnB address.

Slowly, the street lamps return, casting short passes over where Keith falls back asleep in the passenger seat, the sleeves of Lance’s sweater just too long where he crosses his arms into himself.

It’s a long drive. Close to half an hour. Has that first haze of sleep trying to wash over Lance as he drives, but he keeps himself awake with some quiet Death Cab for Cutie and gets them there without incident.

“Do you just wanna stay...?” Keith gently asks him. And it’s a blessing because it’s late and Lance is exhausted and he really doesn’t wanna do that whole drive back.

So he crashes. Literally. Follows Keith in and takes one look at the comfiest couch he’s ever seen in his life and literally crashes onto it, pulling one of the throw pillows under his head and his eyes immediately falling shut.

He doesn’t see Keith after that. Doesn’t know what he’s doing. But he hears the detached “...night...” from somewhere by the hallway and Lance is almost positive he returns it before that wave of sleep washes over him for good.

Almost positive.

But not all the way.

 

_ _ _

 

There’s a cat.

Or was a cat.

Somewhere near and/or around the couch.

Lance knows because at 4:38am he wakes up to a sneezing jag and watery eyes and holy shit he has to get out of here.

The drive home is easier after a couple hours of sleep. His head is clearer. Brain is more rested. Everything that leads to him realizing that...he might’ve fucked up tonight. A few times. But most obviously because he sent him and Keith on a tangent and Keith missed his posting time and-...yeah. That was Lance’s fault, wasn’t it?

He also should’ve left a note or something instead of just leaving like a mystery in the night. Because that was it. That _is_ it. That was his time to be with Keith and not only did he distract them from doing what they were there to do, but now he’s not gonna see Keith anymore because he’s gotta move on. He’s gotta get to the next one.

Lance sighs, that little ball of energy still going crazy inside his rib cage as he drives off into the sunrise.

He’s fuckin’ up all over the place, isn’t he…

 

* * *

 

It’s well past noon when he wakes up in his own bed. Tangled in his own sheets. Hair sticking up from his own pillow.

It’s well past noon and he’s got a text from Hunk about meeting up for a swim, but…

Ugh…

Lance really isn’t in the mood. He can’t help but feel...not disappointed. Disappointed isn’t the word…

...sad?

He’s...sad?

Why the hell is he sad?

His phone buzzes. Another message from Hunk, probably. He should answer and just tell him he’s not in a swimming kinda mood right now.

Lance groans, flopping over to pull his phone down to his face. But it’s not Hunk who messaged him.

_i have your sweater_

_can i come return it?_

Lance’s heart flip flops, a sudden surge of energy radiating from it. That’s right. His sweater.

He quickly types into the box, thumbs moving on their own, eyes scanning and doubt creeping up but _fuck it,_ he sends it anyway.

**if we can get some food first**

He’s selfish and he’s going over his time but he doesn’t fucking care. Not even a little bit. And that ball of light in his chest goes absolutely ape-shit when he gets Keith’s message back.

_send me the address_

 

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

Seeing K waiting for him at the cafe is just as overwhelming as it was seeing him for the first time last night.

Lance is late. Somehow. In his own town. And when he finally does make it, Keith is there, tucked away in the corner window table, slouched comfortably and a hand on his coffee as he watches the leaves blowing by outside.

He should look comfortable - _does..._ look comfortable, but also...pensive... A heavy weighted mind behind worn out eyes. Unhappy in a way Lance can’t put his finger on as he draws closer, catches his attention, offers a nod as he seats himself across the table with an easy:

“Hey.”

“You disappeared.”

He says it calmly but it’s still got Lance’s movements tripping up, his hand gripping the back of the chair as he lets out an unsure, “I did...?”

Keith watches him do it, those tired eyes tracking him but blinking slowly as he elaborates in a calm tone. “Last night. Or this morning.” He brings his coffee up to his lips. “Whenever.”

It’s got Lance’s muscles kicking back into gear, his ass finally planting firmly on the chair and his arms brought back in where they should be now that he understands. “Oh.” That was… “Yeah. The uh...the people who own that place must have a cat that chills on the couch or something.”

“You’re allergic?”

“Super.”

“Mm.” A sip. More staring. His head tilts a little as he leans back a touch in his chair. “Could’ve just came in with me…”

Lance’s fingers tap themselves on the table matter-of-factly, his nod interested. _Ah._ “I...didn’t know that was an option.”

Well shit.

The corner of Keith’s mouth curls. Just a bit. Distract from the bags under his eyes.

And Lance really has a lot of backpedaling he needs to do for last night, so.

“Anyway listen,” he’s just gonna put it all out there, hands spreading over the table as he leans forward to speak. “I know I fucked last night up for you - like a lot. Your Snapchat people were probably super salty-”

_“Are.”_

“Are.” Lance corrects himself. _“Are_ super salty with you-” then on an exhale of a breath, “-shit, sorry-”

It’s got Keith continuing his silent watching from across the table, another sip of coffee in the process. Very far from upset and almost...wait, is he having a good time with this?

Lance’s words stall at the realization, his brows knitting together and mouth open as he tries to figure out how to steer this in the right direction now, but landing with an unsure: “Uhhh…”

“Can I help you?”

Another exhale. “Ugh, please.”

And that’s when Keith sets his coffee down, the steam curling past the side of his face as he says it, very squarely. “I don’t give a shit about my Snapchat followers.”

Oh. “O-...okay.”

“I don’t even talk to them.”

“You don’t?”

“Fuck no.” There’s not a shred of amusement in his tone now. “I don’t _want_ to. I want their money. That’s it. Everything else I ignore.”

“Okay.” Except Lance is having a little bit of a hard time processing. And he swears to god he’s not trying to argue, it’s just: “Okay I hear you, but...you talk to _me…”_

Keith blinks. Something going on behind those eyes again. Something undecipherable. And then he leans back, “Yeah,” gazing sliding off out the window again. “Yeah, I do…”

Lance…

Did he...fuck up again?

“Ke-”

“Can I get you something to drink, sir?”

The waiter’s voice popping up beside him has Lance snapping back, hesitating and attention stuck on Keith but then scrambling with a put together: “Uhhh yeah just-...uh...iced coffee. Please.”

“Cream and sugar?”

“Sure.”

“Any flavor shots?” (Keith is watching him again. Discreetly out the corner of his eye.)

“Uh…-”

“We have caramel, fre-”

“Caramel.”

“Great. I’ll be right back with that.”

“Great.” Jesus, why was that such a struggle. And why does he still feel those eyes on him? “Thanks.”

Keith’s definitely watching him when the waiter walks away, his head tilted forward a bit but gaze on him through those pretty eyelashes.

A common theme. “You’re kind of a stare-er, aren’t ya…”

“Only when I see something I like.” He says it without a smile. Very matter of factly. Must also see Lance’s little eyebrow raise, because he adds on, “That bother you?”

Lance is quick to shake his head, honest in his answer. It doesn’t bother him at all, actually. Makes him feel better about his own staring, if he’s gonna be real. “Still just finding it weird that you’re here.”

“Here?”

“In my town?” He sits forward. “In my cafe? Across the table from me?”

It’s a mindfuck - still not exactly real in Lance’s head. Shit, Keith could be a figment of his imagination for all he knows. They technically haven’t made any actual physical contact yet-

“The guy I was gonna meet up with this afternoon,” Keith’s talking again. Probably not a figment of his imagination. “He got cold feet.”

Lance frowns. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Sucks, man.”

“Mhm.” The steam from Keith’s coffee has calmed by now, nothing to fog up the very intense eye contact as he takes a long drink. Waiting. For something. Obviously not getting it because he says, “Know why I’m telling you?”

Shit, it’s another one of these. “Because-”

“Because I wanna use that time with you.”

“To hang out?”

“To _fuck.”_

Lance’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, no words coming out because _...oh...that’s-_

“Here you are, sir.”

The iced coffee. The motion of it being placed in front of him and the ice clinking and the heavy caramel smell - it all breaks straight through Lance’s trance. But he gets it together. Mumbles his thanks and gives a little nod and then the waiter is gone. Off to another table. Blissfully unaware of the conversation happening at this particular one.

Lance grabs at his coffee, sucking a long sip through the straw. He needs a little something with this new knowledge that he's about to get another chance with K.

"We won't have a lot of time." Speak of the devil. "I wasn't planning on staying long with this guy and the one tonight is an hour away from here."

Lance's swallow goes down thick. "You're gonna pay for an hour long Uber drive?"

"Y-..." Keith's composure freezes up but only for a second - a _split_ second - and then he's right back to watching the leaves outside. "Yeah, what about it..."

"Nothing, that's just super fucking expensive?”

“Okay?”

Hm...testy.

Alright whatever, it's not Lance's business. What _is_ his business, is that he just scored this second chance. Thank god he showered this morning. Wait, shit...is his apartment still clean or…

“So is that a yes? Or do I have to find someone else.”

“Yeah,” Lance is quick to pay better attention. “No, yeah. That’s a-... Wait, could you really find somebody else around here that fast?”

His question must be a dumb one, because he gets a tired blink from across the table. And then Keith is downing the rest of his coffee and setting it down as he stands, producing the infamous sweater out of thin air to toss it over Lance’s shoulder as he passes him and makes his way toward the door.

And oh- oh alright, this is happening right now, okay.

 

\- - -

 

It’s not a long drive from the cafe to Lance’s apartment but a hell of a lot decides to happen in that time. Like his pulse starting to kick up. And that worry about what strange things could’ve been left out, thinking he was coming home alone.

He’s the only one stressing. It’s clear as the day is long because Keith is his natural quiet self in the passenger seat, stealing a piece of gum from Lance’s car stash and checking his makeup in the mirror and pulling his phone out to snap a picture of Lance’s wrist perched patiently on the wheel as they wait at a red light.

He feels the buzz in his pocket.

Knows what it is.

Doesn’t look at it but is pretty sure he knows the appeal of the shot.

“Bracelet?” Because it’s his favorite. Blue and black and threaded tight but-

“No,” Keith clicks his gum without looking up from his phone. “I really like your hands.”

Their walk up three flights of stairs doesn’t help Lance’s pulse in the slightest, and he’s the sorry motherfucker who lives here. The sorry motherfucker who is usually _very_ used to those three flights of stairs but he guesses it’s different when he knows he’s about to have sex with the guy he’s been jerking off to consistently for three months.

It should even out but it doesn’t. Not when they reach the top. Not when they reach the door. Not when they step inside and Lance does his quick inconspicuous sweep for anything embarrassing and is relieved to find nothing.

And alright. How do they do this? How are they supposed to-...

He’s had people over to hook up before. This isn’t new. But it’s usually not at one in the afternoon and it’s usually not extremely out of the blue and it’s never ever with someone that he’s suddenly realizing he wants to impress _very very badly._

Because this is it.

This is why K is here.

This is what it’s all been leading up to and why does that make this all at once extremely overwhelming?

“You good?” He hears K say behind him, and it’s what makes him realize he’s bracing himself on the counter. Facing the kitchen cabinets. Way too in his own thoughts but-

“Yeah.” He turns - “Wh- _oh…”_ \- freezes a little at the sight of K’s shirt sliding up off of his body where he stands in the living room.

Because he’s pretty. _So_ fucking pretty. And the shirt is dropped and Lance’s heart is kicking into double-time and he just needs a second. Just has to get his shit together but K’s moving forward right out of the gate - moving closer - eyes locked and determined and _so fucking pretty and-_

“Hang on,” Lance tries to chuckle through it. Tries to make it a joke but it’s no laughing matter.

And K’s not laughing either. Or smiling. Not even a little bit. Just moving forward and staring straight into Lance and dropping his hands to unbutton his jeans as he paces forward and-

And this shit is happening so fucking fast.

So fast and not at _all_ what Lance was imagining or anticipating or _wants_ and-

And…

And he doesn’t want it like this.

“C’mere…”

He doesn’t want it like this.

“Touch me…”

_He doesn’t want it like this._

Lance steps back with just enough room to spare, the heat in his face spreading over his entire body but at least there’s space. There’s space but no time because-

“What.” Keith’s looking at him. Brow etched. Uncertainty melting into frustration when the answer takes too long. _“What._ What _is_ it?"

Lance swallows thickly, the reality of what he’s done sinking in the more he stands there. He’s gotta look away. Has to take another step back as Keith steps forward. Has to put the kitchen table between them until his heart stops threatening to burst out of his chest because-

“Are we gonna do this or am I wasting my time again?” It’s a second chance. A second chance within _this_ second chance.

And Lance just wants to press pause on this shit and figure it out because his _body_ is fucking ready so why isn’t his brain but Keith is impatient. And Keith is waiting. And Keith is _so fucking pretty that Lance wants to scream so why can’t he just-_

“Look.” Keith’s sharp. Tired. Slipping from anger to disappointment and always so tired as he says it, tone gone honest… “Do you _wanna_ fuck me, or not…” A question. But Lance can’t get it together in time so he keeps going. “Because we didn’t last night, and then I come at you again today and you’re running away from me.”

Lance can’t help the sigh. Has to force it out. “I know.”

“Well what the fuck.” He’s getting sharp again. Taking a step forward. “What the fuck is the matter then.”

“Nothing.”

“What’s the matter with _me?”_

_“Nothing.”_

“Then why the hell are you pussying out again?”

“Because not everything is about fucking?” It slips out, but what’s worse is it slips out nasty - with a sarcasm that neither of them expect. And Lance didn’t really mean for it to be so catty, but, “Not everything has to be that “meet up, get it in, and leave” bullshit like you want it to be, okay?”

Keith’s arms are crossing over his chest - meeting that attitude. “I didn’t have to come here at all. If I’m so inconvenient for you then just fucking say so.”

“No-” Lance huffs, arms coming up in frustration as he consults the ceiling for help. “N-... That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“Then what’re you saying? You knew what this was from the very beginning, so _please_ tell me what’s throwing your shit off because I’d love to know.”

Lance can feel the sour ooze in his chest rising. Higher and higher with every word. Every second that look is being directed at him. And fuck, it would be really fucking nice if his body could chill out down there given the fact that definitely _nothing_ is going to be happening now.

“I don’t know why I tried this again.” K’s still going. Almost talking to himself now. “Never had to deal with this dramatic bullshit with anyone besides you.”

The scoff out of Lance’s mouth is unavoidable - slips out and paves the way for: “Well I’m _sorry_ I’m not like the three thousand other guys you randomly fuck off the internet.”

Keith’s eyes ice over with that.

The heat packed behind them turns cold as they ease away… Pensive. _Tired._ Head nodding and then he’s moving to button his pants back up.

And oh… The instant regret.

“What-...” Lance sighs. “What’re you doing.”

“Leaving.”

Shit. “You don’t-...” _Shit._ “Wait - you don’t have to go.”

But K’s making his way to the living room. Not looking back and in calculated silence and throwing his shirt back on and-

Lance is the one to move forward now but he knows it’s doomed from the start. Knows nothing he can say right now is going to stop K when he’s moving with as much determination as he is. But still… As a last minute plea… “Keith…”

It feels foreign on his tongue.

Has K faltering in the doorway, face hidden but hand on the doorknob.

But then there’s the creak - swinging open.

And the slam shut.

And then he’s gone.

The moment doesn’t take long to settle. To sink in.

Lance tilts his head back, hands dragging down his face as he lets out his breath in a defeated exhale through his nose - a whispered _“fuck…”_

He really fucking did it this time.

 

_ _ _

 

Why.

Why the fuck did he do that.

Why the fuck does he do _anything_ anymore at this point? Just one fuckup after another. After another.

After…

He gets the email. Five hours have past since K left and he bittersweetly opened the leftover _‘@sunnies-out-hunnies-out 2pm ct’_ snap and he gets the email as he’s sitting on his couch trying not to feel sorry for himself.

It’s his paper.

Graded.

Finally.

And it’s…

Lance swipes out of the PDF, phone clattering onto the table and a hand coming up to his brow and that heavy lump climbing climbing climbing in his throat.

One after another. One after a-fucking-nother.

He’s gotta move or he’s gonna climb right out of his goddamn skin. Has to have a drink or he’s gonna think himself into oblivion. Needs someone or he’s gonna end up digging his grave even deeper with the person he wishes was still here right now.

The couch groans as he reaches for his phone again - as he squints in the dark because he’s too much of a depressed motherfucker to turn the lights on - as he swipes through it until he finds the contact he knows he shouldn’t pull but he might as well keep playing the fuckup since he’s been so good at it so far.

‘Luis’

 

_ _ _

 

The bar is dark and cramped and Lance shouldn’t be here.

It’s Saturday night. Everything is loud and people’s hands are everywhere and Luis is smiling like an angel sent from heaven and Lance _should not be here._

But the energy is nice - does a sort of _okay_ job at stuffing down his thoughts - keeps him the right amount of high so that he can flash those smiles that don’t quite make it to his eyes but are good enough.

Everyone’s having a good time. Luis is having a good time. Lance is at least coasting but it’s tricky because if he thinks long enough then he’s thinking about K having a good time because it’s-... He should be there. By now. An hour away. Lance didn’t get the snap about it but it would make sense for K to be there and that’s good - at least he’s having a good time. And Luis is having a good time. And-...

Lance orders shots with grocery money.

Orders shots with rent money.

Orders shots with tuition money but those are all problems for Later Lance because Now Lance needs to stop thinking. Now Lance needs to get out of his head and appreciate the atmosphere and appreciate how Luis’s eyes kind of glimmer a little when he drinks and maybe they do that when he’s looking into the stars?

When he’s-...

Another shot.

Another shot and Lance is a little too handsy.

A little too close.

A little too dizzy and he _should not be here_ but he stumbles through the people anyway. Stumbles to the back. Stumbles into the bathroom and locks the door and he doesn’t realize he doesn’t actually have to pee until he’s pulling up k-baby’s Snapchat and there’s a snapstory and he didn’t get even one of those videos and he shouldn’t watch it but he does. Just one. Shot over K’s shoulder and quick as the guy fucks him but Lance doesn’t miss the fact that K’s not making noise. Doesn’t miss that he’s silent, face out of the shot. Doesn’t miss the curl of sour discomfort in his own stomach as he swipes out of it and out of the bathroom and back through the people and he shouldn’t be here but he zeroes in. Finds Luis. Is drunk and tired and sad and a fuckup and crashes his lips so tightly against Luis’s that it hurts.

On the inside.

And he shouldn’t be here.

But everyone else is having a good time. And Luis is a good kisser. And so what if Lance is stupid and a fuckup and got the closest to a D that you can get without actually getting one on his paper because “the ideas were there but the execution and effort were sloppy” like he didn’t spend three months of his life trying his goddamn hardest on that shit? So what?

So fucking what?

As long as everyone’s having a good time.

As long as Luis is happy and K is out there getting fucked by someone who’s not Lance and as long as Lance just keeps it all tequila-hazy in his brain then it’s almost like K’s the one here instead. The one in his space. The one Lance is making out with - hot and heavy and not desperate but almost and wouldn’t that be fucking nice? Wouldn’t it be amazing if Lance hadn’t fucked that all up not once but twice? Wouldn’t it just be out of this world remarkable if he could be with him right now? With Keith? Here or at home or anywhere honestly just as long as it was them?

Because if it was Keith then Lance wouldn’t feel so fucking guilty.

If it was Keith then he wouldn’t feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet.

If it was Keith then Lance wouldn’t be getting eased away, two hands on his shoulders and “You okay?” and “Something’s up…” and “This isn’t for me - I know…”

It’s the last one that’s the suckerpunch. The icing on the cake but Lance can’t even deny it. Can’t even defend himself.

Doesn’t have to because Luis is pulling him back in - “It’s okay.” - kissing him again - “Been there before…” - hands gone gentle - “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

And it cuts away a little bit of that guilt. The tiniest slice. But it’s enough and Lance falls back in and his chest is ready to cave any moment.

And it’s tight.

And it’s loud.

And it’s crowded.

And Lance shouldn’t fucking be here.

 

_ _ _

 

Luis pays for the Uber home.

He leaves Lance to his sorry thoughts, but not without saying it - right before the car door slams and the car drives off.

“You gotta talk to whoever all that was for.”

It’s got that gross feeling in Lance’s stomach again. It follows him all the way up those three flights of stairs and back onto his couch and he’s sobered up a considerable amount because it’s very hard to keep drinking when you’ve got your tongue in someone else’s mouth.

It’s late and his brain knows it. Heart knows it. Fingers know it as they fumble over the keyboard on his phone but he’s gotta say it. Has to rewrite it. Has to read through it five times before he sends it just to make sure it’s coherent.

**i shouldnt have said that shit to u. idk anything about what u do and what u go thru to do it. i have absolutely no room to judge and im sorry.**

He sends it and tucks his phone between his chest and the couch and he lets his eyes close. Lets himself just...be.

Universe spinning.

Ears ringing from the bar.

Soon enough he either falls asleep or dips so low that he’s missing time. Just kinda...floating. Existing in his space until he feels the vibration against his breastbone and he’s pulled right back up.

It’s from K.

He’s talking to him.

_i was really shitty to you and didnt need to be. like to think you wouldnt have said that if i hadnt gone at you like that so. im sorry too._

Lance clumsily situates onto his back, but his chest is still buzzing. Still humming because...they’re...not fighting? K’s apologizing back? K’s apologizing back. He doesn’t wanna fight either.

Lance can, but doesn’t want to leave it like this.

Keeps going.

**for the record, i very much do wanna sleep with u. i just got nervous bc i hyped myself up too hard. i thought about it for so long that when it happened and it wasnt how id imagined it all starting i freaked out**

It takes a bit to type correctly - to make extra sure - but it’s worth it, because it’s got weight picking up off his shoulders and his rib cage and he’s able to breathe again. Especially when K’s messages start to come in quick.

_i get it_

_didnt realize i come on too heavy until you_

And is he-... Is he still at that guy’s place?

Is he doing this right now with someone else needing his attention, or…

Lance brings his phone back up.

**sorry i fucked ur snapchat stuff up again**

He really made a quick habit of that within a two-day period, didn’t he?

But:

_its ok_

**whens ur flight back tomorrow**

He’s not sure why he’s asking. It’s not like he has any right to try and steal more time away from this boy after everything that went down. It’s just...he wants to know. Because maybe.

And that’s what makes K’s answer pull this little ache in his chest.

_8am_

Inside his rib cage.

 **oh** he says.

**that’s early**

_yeah_

Right.

Well…

Lance shifts over to his side. Fights down that lurking ooze of disappointment.

**even with all the drama n everything, im really glad we got to meet**

It hurts to send. It hurts to send and he doesn’t know why.

But he wants it to stop. And he doesn’t wanna be in his head anymore. And he turns all the way over until his face is in the pillow and he’s floating again. In the space.

He falls asleep waiting for Keith’s answer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s raining.

It’s raining again when Lance wakes up.

His phone says ‘10:03am’.

Head says ‘fuck’.

Muscles say ‘give me water, you dehydrated motherfucker’.

It’s eleven by the time he showers and puts on his comfy pants and makes it over to Hunk’s for Chill Sunday.

The cartoons are playing and it’s still raining out there and by now K should be in the air on his way back to whatever big city it is that he’s from.

Lance tries not to think about it.

Tries to focus on the episode of Rocket Power streaming on the TV.

Takes a small hit from Hunk’s stash and lets Hunk’s dog use his lap as a pillow but…

It’s still lurking there. The disappointment. Not that he didn’t get laid but that-...that K’s just...gone. Just like that. Here and then not. He consumed Lance’s weekend without trying and then left and that’s-...well...actually that’s Lance’s fault, isn’t it. For letting it happen. For letting his brain and his feelings revolve around him for two days straight.

It’s Lance’s fault, as usual.

At least he can still talk to him. Hopefully things get back to normal and they can pick back up where they were before this all happened. Before K came here.

It’s just gonna take a little bit. Something Lance isn’t exactly looking forward to. Something he’s gotta get over. But first he has to stop feeling so fucking sorry for himself as he sits here. Which is...a task.

It’s still raining when they run back over to Lance’s apartment to switch things around. The sky has opened up above them and it just comes pouring down - huge drops that almost hurt but Lance doesn’t care because it kind of matches his mood in a really depressing, pathetic sort of way.

So Hunk runs. From his building over to Lance’s.

But Lance just takes his time and lets it happen and can’t find it in himself to care when he gets soaked to the bone. Because so what. Honestly. Nothing has been going right for him lately so he might as well get drenched, shoes squishing as he leads them up the stairs. Up the three flights. Up and up and up and hand thrust carelessly into his soggy pocket to get his key until-

Until...

...he can’t move.

Until every muscle in his body freezes and his heart spikes up and then plummets and he can’t fucking move because-...

At his door.

Clothes drenched… Dark bangs plastered against his forehead… Brow furrowed and eyes staring up at him through those thick, pretty eyelashes…

Lance swallows, mouth ready but words unable to overpower the lump in his throat because-...

He’s-...

“I’m...gonna go, I think…” It’s Hunk who speaks. Behind him. Very carefully.

Disappears down the steps until it’s just the two of them and-...

And Lance needs to get his shit together and fucking _talk._

“I-... Shouldn’t you be...gone...?”

They’re both dripping wet. Catching the chill. But Lance’s entire body washes over with a very solid warmth when K says it, quietly.

“I pushed my flight back.”

Pushed it-... “How long?”

“A day.”

A whole day.

Lance blinks. Forces himself to start moving - sloshing over to the door and unlocking it and getting them both inside but then they’re in the same predicament. Standing… Staring. Words heavy on their tongues but not strong enough to get them out and Lance’s chest is so fucking full right now that he doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know what to think.

Pushes himself to move again, sliding his shoes off and forcing himself into the kitchen and- “Do you want something…? Coffee? I think-...” he digs around in the wrong cabinet, “I think I have cocoa somewhere around here-”

“I’m okay…”

He’s gonna keep looking anyway. Gonna make some cocoa anyway. Gonna busy his hands anyway because if they aren’t busy then they’re gonna start making trouble and that’s-

“Do you have a towel...?”

Keith looks like he’s about to cry when Lance turns, but that’s always how he looks. All the time. Tired and glossy-eyed and now like a sad puppy with the way he’s dripping in Lance’s kitchen and yes. Duh. A towel.

A roll of thunder barrels through his apartment as Lance moves to the hallway. There’s two towels left in the linen closet - a blessing - and he’s halfway back when he stops in his tracks, peeking out the hallway to ask, “Shirt?”

Keith turns from the pictures on the fridge to meet his offer, hands wrapped around one of the mugs of cocoa.

He nods, rainwater falling from his bangs.

It’s all so surreal that Lance doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask questions. Just goes to his closet and grabs a shirt and tries not to assume that K stayed back a day for him. Because that would be overwhelming. In a good way. But still overwhelming. So he’s just gonna keep moving and be helpful and smile when he gets a quiet little “thanks” as the clothes get passed off.

Keith tucks himself away into the bathroom.

It leaves everything else still - everything else quiet - nothing to hear over the rumble of thunder and the rain as a gust of wind sends it against Lance’s bedroom window as he peers out.

The clouds have made everything dark. Night time at three in the afternoon. Lance pats himself dry with the towel and slips some clean sweats on, forgoing his shirt for a moment so he can dry out his hair without getting it wet again.

His pulse is heavy but not in the way it’s been. Not erratic. Not worried.

It’s just...thick. Constant as he runs the towel over his hair, taking in the storm through his window, thoughts gone muddled until there’s a second reflection in the glass...further back...joining him in his dark room.

Lance turns. And suddenly everything is slowing down around him at the sight of it.

Of Keith.

Standing in his doorway...his hair still damp but his body dry...Lance’s tank top too big, draping over him just above his bare thighs…

Bare legs…

Bare feet…

And he’s staring. Keith is. Never subtle but this time unguarded, eyes taking in Lance’s chest...and lower...and slowly back up again until they’re holding it...heavy in the air...

Heavy in their chests…

Lance’s heart stutters. It stutters and Keith starts taking these slow, easy steps toward him. Space thinning. Floorboards creaking. Thunder rolling as he comes to a stop just shy of touching.

Lance can feel the energy rolling off him like the electricity in the atmosphere - the lightning that reflects in his eyes as he stares up at him.

And Lance…

He wants to touch.

It’s pouring outside but nothing can distract from the heaviness of his arm as he reaches up without thinking, his fingers outstretched and the space closing so he can-...

So he can feel him…

Finally…

His palm settling against the soft skin of K’s neck…

He _feels_ him. Takes in how K’s eyes flutter closed at the touch - accepting...leaning into it in quiet encouragement.

He feels him under his fingers and can’t fight the low ache of wanting more - more of that soft skin - the slow rush of air escaping K’s parted lips as Lance slides his hand up the curve of his neck.

A thick swallow at the pass of a thumb over his adam’s apple…

Eyes dropping open again and glossy pupils wide and reflecting the lightning as he lifts his own hands - spreads the electricity through his fingertips straight to Lance’s heart as he feels down his bare chest.

Skin on skin…

Inquisitive pressure…

The warm touch, easing lower to trace down the insides of Lance’s wrists and then he’s pulling. And they’re moving. And Lance’s feet are carrying him softly over the floorboards until he presses forward and leads them to the bed.

More lightning. Stuttering over K’s body as he crawls over to settle in Lance’s lap...thighs spread...weight solid and very much real and tugging on Lance’s pulse as he sits back to watch.

Because K’s doing this for him. Moving like this. Slowly drawing the hem of the tank top up to show off more smooth skin - the lean muscles as he rolls his hips - the dark red briefs with the black elastic that cling to him as he leisurely grinds down into Lance’s lap.

And Lance - if his brain wasn’t in his dick - if his brain wasn’t flooding with his pulse - he’d recognize those briefs from some of the videos.

But his brain _is_ in his dick. And his brain _is_ being snuffed out by whatever is going on in his chest. And the sight of K on top of him, the hem of the tank top he let him borrow held up easily between his teeth as he rolls his hips, it’s got Lance mesmerized. Has him in a trance. Has him staring - no doubt in awe - until a crack of thunder has him focusing back in.

Because he needs to.

He has to focus.

Has to fucking _get with it._

Because this shit is happening for real. In real time. Isn’t a video or a snap or any of that shit. K is here - in his room - right this second - literally on top of him and Lance needs to-... Lance finally fucking gets to-

The mattress creaks under him as he sits up fully, the space closing and the hem of the tank falling from K’s mouth and back down over his chest as Lance gets in his space - savors the look of surprised intrigue in his eyes - smooths his hand down his neck just like he did at the window but this time, he keeps going, the fabric of the shirt’s cut off sleeve looping between his fingers as he gently pulls it down off his shoulder.

K’s skin is so pretty in the dark.

So tempting.

Right there and waiting for him, too gorgeous to pass up so Lance leans forward, K’s breath hitching in his throat as Lance grazes his mouth over his bare shoulder - grazes his teeth - licks his lips and presses them against his skin and gets K’s blunt fingernails against the back of his hair.

It’s a rush of adrenaline. A rush of warm, oozing pleasure. Addicting - Lance chasing after it with more open mouthed kisses trailing up K’s neck until he’s pulling one of those soft, breathy moans from him that he loves so much and _fuck...they’re even better in real life…_

Those nails scratch dully but it’s enough to add to it - to fuel Lance’s mouth to give the other side attention as K bares it for him - to fuel his hands to slide down the curve of K’s back like he’s always wanted and grab hold of that absolutely gorgeous ass.

And it’s so surreal but it’s also impossibly tangible - literally beneath Lance’s fingers and beneath Lance’s tongue - has another cute, velvety moan reaching his ears as K presses the side of his face to Lance’s because one of the hands grabbing his ass has drifted, a middle finger sliding down his crease over the thin fabric of his underwear.

Lance wants to get him there.

Wants to open him up.

Sacrifices both hands to wrap his arms around K’s middle and bring them both back so he can sit against the headboard.

K seems to like the change, and the palm on his ass again, and the way Lance uses his other to lean and get the bottle from his nightstand.

The cap clicks open in the dark, but all the attention is drawn to K’s shift and the easy way he teases the waistband of his briefs down his hips and over his lap and then down his thighs…smooth milky skin, just out of reach.

He’s impossibly pretty - silent, but eyes zeroed in - already hard, cock bouncing as he knees back into Lance’s lap and wraps his arms around his neck.

Lance melts at the touch. He still isn’t used to it. Not after all this time. And he’s-...he’s got a job to do.

Those cute, stuttery little breaths are right back in his ear like he was hoping they’d be the very second he gets his fingers on him, slick and tracing down his crease again and the spark of excitement in Lance’s chest when his middle finger brushes over K’s entrance is out of this world.

Because this is happening. They’re really doing this. K’s really here right now, arms wrapped around his neck and hands in his hair as Lance works him open. Slowly. Gently. Politely. Apparently not what K’s used to because he’s pressing back onto his fingers. He’s slowly chasing after it, hips rocking. And there’s something so confusingly cute about it that Lance has to focus on something else so he doesn’t lose it too quickly.

Like...how K’s pressing their temples together again…

Like...how Lance can feel K’s cock against his bare stomach off every roll of his hips…

Like...how that’s actually really affirming because Lance is so hard in his sweatpants right now that he’d be embarrassed to show himself otherwise.

Especially with how clear K’s voice is - no longer impeded by audio quality - no longer traveling from a video through Lance’s headphones. No. This shit is direct. Straight from the source, the soft hum as Lance crooks his fingers inside him almost too much to handle.

But he sticks with it. For the cause. To ensure that K is nice and ready for him - for _them_ \- for-

“Hnn…” that voice...that thick swallow...those words, hot breath and lips ghosting over Lance’s ear when he says them, “...mm...want you to fuck me…”

It works over Lance’s entire body - a tingle straight up his spine and a heat pooling low and his eyes falling shut because _fuck…_ Fuck, this boy is so unfair it’s ridiculous.

Lance gives one more pump of his fingers and then eases out, freeing his hands so he can wrap hold around K once again and bring him around under him - dark hair on his pillow - glossy eyes staring up at him - glancing down to where he tucks his fingers under the waistband of Lance’s sweatpants.

Lance is more than happy to oblige, only a split second of self consciousness washing over him as he tugs them down because it’s obliterated by the little inhale below him, K’s eyes widening just a touch at the sight, then flicking back up to Lance, something like hunger in them as he stares up at him in the dark.

It’s an ego boost to say the least. A vote of confidence, Lance fighting down a whole bunch of different urges as he rips the condom open and rolls it on.

More lube. Nice and slick. K is staring like he wants to eat Lance alive and it’d be enough to get the nerves kicking back in if Lance wasn’t so fucking turned on - if he wasn’t also ready to eat _K_ alive - if he wasn’t already lining himself up, eyes up, keeping it, holding the stare as he slowly pushes forward...slowly...so fucking slowly...and then…

K’s brows pinch as Lance sinks in, his lashes fluttering but that gaze held and Lance is the one to finally break it - to give into the rush of endorphins and pleasure points and _fuck, K’s tight…_

So tight...

And warm…

And _god...can he just stay like this for-_

Another wave of heat - thick - tingling as K rocks his hips, slowly grinding on Lance’s full cock inside him, finding those spots, taking it for all it’s worth.

It’s the sexiest thing Lance has ever seen. The sexiest thing he’s ever felt, buried deep but getting that tight, hot friction against K’s walls.

And he’s gotta move. He’s gotta move before he cums just like this. Wants to use every moment he’s got. For him. For K. For-...

For Keith...

Keith’s legs barely need any direction for them to come up and wrap around Lance’s waist, snug like they belong there. It’s close but Lance definitely has enough room to work - to frame Keith’s hips with his hands and start the slow ease in and out.

It’s what finally has those big, pretty eyes falling shut.

Has those hands grabbing Lance’s biceps.

Has those thighs tightening around him as Lance begins to pick up the pace - almost pleading - almost insisting on faster faster _faster._

Because he won’t say it out loud. Never has, Lance doesn’t think. But he doesn’t need to because the breaths leaving his mouth are already pushing Lance over the edge. Already have him way too close. Work at him just like they did the very first time he stumbled on one of those videos but this is blown out of proportion.

This is very real and wrapped around him and those hitching breaths and quiet moans are because of _him. Lance_ is pulling those. _Lance_ and the greedy thrusts into him. The greedy hands. The greedy way Keith clenches around his cock, parted lips licked red and slick and…

“Fuck…” Lance is losing it, lines etched in his forehead as he squeezes his eyes shut because he wants it to last but he’s _losing it-_

Keith’s dull fingernails scratch over his biceps - feel like they’re biting into the tense muscles - don’t help in the slightest but not nearly as badly as how he tightens his thighs around Lance’s waist and _keeps it tight -_ forces every thrust to be the deepest it can be - the fullest stretch - Keith’s eyes drinking up Lance’s face and his body like his life depends on it and _oh fuck-_

“Shit-” _oh no-_ “-‘m close-” _-he can’t stop it and it feels so good and Keith’s so fucking pretty and-_ “Fuck-... Fuck- I’m gonna-...” _-so pretty-_ “-‘m gonna c-”

Lance’s mouth drops open, stars behind his eyelids and heat exploding and Keith’s legs squeeze him in as close as possible - as deeply as possible - bring him all the way in and keep him there as Lance cums, hips stuttering against him and mind melting and he only just barely gets his eyes open in time to see Keith’s hand on his own cock, getting himself off between them and hips rolling and sending aftershocks up Lance’s body as his cum paints up his chest and holy shit-

Holy shit…

Holy… 

Lightning flashes.

Thunder shakes the floorboards and breath is not coming easily.

Lance’s lashes flutter as he takes in Keith’s face below him. As Keith does the same.

And breath is not coming easily.

Or words.

Or...or thoughts...

Lance swallows, fingers itching to run through Keith’s damp bangs. But…

“...we didn’t-...” his voice is rough...hoarse... “...we forgot to record…”

Keith’s eyes are glossy. Reflect the lightning. Reflect the stars.

A second galaxy.

“...I didn’t want them seeing...”

 

\- - -

 

Keith gets the shower first.

Lance gives him his blue Detroit Lions long-sleeve to change into and waits his turn on his bed and takes the bathroom when Keith’s finally out.

He looks cute in his shirt.

Has had perpetually damp hair for what feels like forever now but has really only been a few hours.

The amount of hot water left is surprising but welcomed when Lance stands under it. His muscles ache but that doesn’t change the looseness of his limbs - the incredibly _full_ feeling in his chest as he soaps himself down. The same bar of soap Keith just soaped himself down with.

Is that...weird?

Steam. Thick as he steps out of the shower. Wipes a strip clear in the mirror. Fixes his hair, eyes falling from his hands to the small upward curve of his lips…

The steam pours out into the hallway when he opens the door, just as it had with Keith. He throws a shirt and some clean track pants on in his room and can’t help but notice the rumble in his stomach as he checks in on the storm outside his window.

“Hungry?” he calls out, loudly enough that Keith should be able to hear him in the living room. The reason he has an appetite isn’t exactly a mystery, so he can’t be the only one. “Didn’t get to hit up the store this weekend but we could order something in.”

He straightens his shirt, eyes drawn to the bed for one last moment before he makes his way back into the hallway.

“Keith?” He probably can’t hear him. Or is too busy sitting staring off dramatically like he does. Whatever’s going on in his head while he does that must be good. “There’s a pizza place kinda close - free delivery-...”

Lance’s lazy grin falls as he steps into the living room, brows furrowing in confusion and his movement on pause.

Because…

“Keith?” he calls it again. Glances around.

Kitchen. Back through the hallway. Dark bathroom. But…

Lance frowns. Heart dips in his chest at the empty space where Keith’s boots had been left at the door. Does one more sweep until he’s absolutely sure. Until the dip of his heart grows to full fledged disappointment.

Until...on the kitchen counter...written on the back of a scrap of paper...

_message me tomorrow_

 

_ _ _

 

The storm clears.

Makes for an incredibly quiet atmosphere to try and fall asleep in.

Lance turns onto his back with a long exhale, bed sheets tangled up in his legs as he stares up at the ceiling, the satisfied hum in his body somehow not reaching his chest.

He tries not to think about it.

Tries not to think about not being able to say goodbye.

Tries not to think about what Keith meant when he said that.

_I didn’t want them seeing._

There’s no lightning to distract him. No thunder to pull his attention. Just the moonlight, in strips across his bed - across his ceiling. Just the smell of Keith’s cologne on his sheets.

**u took my favorite shirt**

It’s technically ‘tomorrow’. A couple minutes after midnight.

And sleeping, like everything, is not coming easily.

_whyd you give it to me if it’s your favorite_

Lance’s gaze falls from his phone…

Lingers…

Climbs back up to the ceiling again as he lies there in thought.

 

* * *

 

The week starts. Like any other week.

Hunk very briefly asks about Sunday and Lance very briefly gives him the bare minimum and everything sort of slides back into normality whether he wants it to or not.

Because time does progress.

No matter what’s going on in the back of his head.

No matter how empty or full his chest is on any particular day.

And especially if he finds himself right back to hanging onto k-baby’s videos. Just like before all this. Just like nothing ever happened. Except…

Except the video doesn’t come.

It’s Thursday and nothing is posted and Lance writes it off as ‘xyz’ because he doesn’t know what else to do. Doesn’t wanna start making assumptions or drawing conclusions between two unrelated things. So he doesn’t.

Even when it’s Friday and it’s still radio silence.

And Saturday.

And he knows the last time this happened, something was going on with Ke-... with K. But.

He writes it off. Because he doesn’t want to get involved. And his brain is over-weighing his heart for once in his entire fucking life so...that’s a new one.

But yeah.

He leaves it alone. As best as he can and for as long as he can until he has absolutely no choice in the matter because he’s being thrust back in. Getting dragged right back and loving every second of it in this sick sort of way when he reads it.

_i havent been totally honest with you_

Lance is about to head to sleep, still on the couch but sleep now as far from his mind as possible when he gets the message.

**wym**

It’s the first time they’ve talked since that night. Since K left and Lance messaged him quick. It’s the first time. And it’s...

_the guys i hook up with. there are a few that i take flights out to see, but most of them are close by my city._

Lance frowns, rereading to try and spot the big lie. But he’s missing something. He’s not seeing something that’s there and-

_i didnt have a flight to push back last weekend_

-he...

_im from chicago_

...Lance blinks.

Has-... Has a moment…

Just has to-…

Chicago.

Chicago...to him in South Bend...

That’s-... Shit, that’s a less than two hour drive.

Lance shifts on the couch, eyes flicking up to the stars starting to peek out from behind the clouds outside, the beginnings of a intriguing grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Keith is in Chicago.

 

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

So.

Keith is under two hours away.

Which means he more than likely drove his own car into Lance’s town and was getting around that way. No Uber charges. No pushed flights. Just that AirBnB fee that Lance _knows_ was a thing because he almost died on the couch from cat dander inflammation.

Which means...his trip was nowhere near as expensive as Lance thought.

Which means...

...he could do it again...?

...if he wanted to...?

 

* * *

 

Lance is still picking up the pieces two weeks later. He’s fought off Hunk’s consistent and very specific questions about the sad, soggy boy at his door for so long that at the end of the day, he can’t keep track of precisely what he’s told Hunk about Keith and what he’s left out. But that’s one piece that can keep getting shoved back. Especially when there are other things he needs to take care of. More important things.

He should’ve texted Luis sooner.

He knows he should’ve.

But when he finally does, it’s with as much humility as he can muster, because he knows exactly how low on the totem pole of respect he fell that night at the bar.

It’s an apology.

A big one.

An **im a piece of shit and shouldntve used u like that even if u said u were cool about it.**

An **if u want me to fuck off for forever i get it and totally will.**

A **ur super nice n caring n good looking n all that good shit and deserve someone wholl treat u right so again im sorry and if u dont ever wanna hang out again i understand.**

He just wants to make himself clear.

Doesn’t want there to be anything left unsaid.

Gets a _you text SO much._

And a _come buy me tacos and listen to me bitch about football at 8._

 

_ _ _

 

He does.

He goes and sits and listens to Luis - a sweaty mess in the other side of the booth - railing on the dumb shit they’ve got him doing at practice and Lance is on his absolute best behavior.

Will be from now on.

Is gonna be a good fucking friend and a good fucking person from here on out.

So it is decreed.

 

* * *

  

Thursday.

Everything gets done on time. Night class. Food. Homework. It’s all tied up tight so Lance can fuck off to his room for the rest of his night and refresh his Tumblr feed in a not obsessive manner whatsoever.

The stars are hiding behind the clouds this evening, but Lance is patient. Waits very calmly on his bed. Answers an ask someone wrote him about how cute his latest selfie was and just...lies there. Patiently. Not obsessively in any way, shape, or form.

And then the video hits his dash.

Lance hums to himself, reaching over to his nightstand and snagging his headphones so he can get them nice and snug in his ears before hitting play. Before indulging. Before watching the first few seconds with eager eyes, taking it all in like he does every time and-

...Lance stalls.

Does a double take.

Knows his eyebrows are quickly rising to his hairline but he can’t help it because-

Because there’s Keith, slowly fucking himself on that black dildo he loves so much, naked thighs tense and hips rocking and-...and blue fabric… Blue sleeves, and a blue hem, and a lion...very familiar...roaring on his chest as he moves…

He’s…

He’s wearing…

Lance swallows, his heart pulling about three hundred different directions in his rib cage, but still not as intensely as how quickly it goes straight to his dick - unapologetic in how watching Keith fuck himself in front of everyone _while wearing Lance’s shirt_ turns him on like _that._

He can’t tear his eyes away. Can’t even touch himself as he watches, Keith pulling the hem up over his stomach and catching it in his teeth just like-...like when he was here in his bedroom…

Lance lets out a sharp breath through parted lips, bringing his phone over himself - over his lap - the ghost of how tight Keith was around him sending shivers up his spine.

What he wouldn’t give to have him here again right now. To bury himself deep. To get another handful of that ass and hear those cute, stuttery little moans in his ear.

 _God,_ he wants Keith.

The video comes to an end without Lance even noticing Keith’s orgasmed - too caught up in his head and his memories and the phantom touch he can still feel if he focuses hard enough.

And Keith.

Holy fuck, he did this shit on purpose, didn’t he.

 **oh my god** he direct-messages, other hand finally making its way under his sweatpants, **my fucking shirt**

The video is pulled back up with no time to spare, not even ten seconds under way again before Lance gets it, the notification sliding down from the top of his screen.

 _Snapchat - now_ **_  
_ ** _from k-baby_

Holy shit.

He greedily thumbs it open - an over the shoulder selfie - Keith stretched out in bed on his stomach, Lance’s Detroit Lions shirt still very much on and a sleeve raised up to playfully cover his mouth, the bottom of the shirt settled just above the cute curve of his lower back so it can show off the perfectly gorgeous swell of his bare ass for him.

_you mean this one?_

Lance holds in a groan, brows pinching as his body feels the direct hit. “Oh my god…”

Keith’s dirty.

Too cute for his own good.

Has Lance wanting to screenshot but not knowing the protocol and fuck, letting him borrow that longsleeve was both the worst and best decision of his life.

The photo disappears, but Lance’s hand keeps moving - working over himself in his pants - typing sloppily in the message screen.

**w hats ur screengrab deal**

Because holy shit, if he could keep that for himse-

 _Snapchat - now_ **_  
_ ** _from k-baby_

Open.

It’s the same setup - Keith’s hair all sweet and messy as he stares up at the camera, no text this time but his ass still all perky and cute and god Lance really wants to get his face in there and-

The picture disappears.

Runs out of time.

Fuck, Lance fucking missed it.

_that meant yes jsyk_

Jesus. He can hear Keith’s teasing tone all the way from here.

**yeah sry got i t**

Get your shit together, Lance.

 _Snapchat - now_ **_  
_ ** _from k-baby_

His last chance. It’s shocking he’s even gotten this many to begin with but-

Lance pulls his hand out of his pants to get the screenshot - to capture it forever and hide away somehow on his phone because he will definitely be looking at this more than probably necessary. Especially with how the glint in Keith’s eyes has changed for this one - still heavy and suggestive, but this time lit with a little something else.

Amusement.

_good job you did it_

The breath that Lance lets out is a near chuckle, his head falling back onto his pillow and his hand snaking back under his waistband.

This boy is gonna be the death of him.

 

* * *

 

A few more weeks is all they have to get through and then Fall Break is upon them - a glorious week off from classes and university-related activities and Lance is so fucking hype to get some down time after everything that’s been going on. Both good and arguably _not_ good. He’s ready for the time off that he _knows_ he deserves. They all do.

Shay’s already planning on bringing Hunk home for a portion of it. The good ol’ meet-the-parents schtick that would seem drastically premature in Lance’s book if Hunk wasn’t being so freaking gung-ho about it.

Those two…

Whatever, it’s nice. Even if Hunk is getting stolen away from Lance when they could be using the time to get into some serious trouble.

At least Hunk will be happy.

 

* * *

 

_someones trying to send me a butt plug_

Dead leaves dance across the ground past Lance’s bench when he gets the message.

**lol what u dont want it?**

He sends it off, looking back up from his phone to watch the people a little further down the sidewalk, straw brought up to his lips.

The temp is technically getting a little too chilly for iced coffee, but that’s not gonna stop him.

_it’s got a tail_

Lance snorts. **what**

_it’s a tail butt plug_

_im not a dog_

He smirks. **well u ARE a good boy**

More leaves. The crunch of boots over them further away.

And…

Lance checks his phone. No response.

For a solid three minutes.

Then:

_you think im a good boy?_

Lance’s eyes narrow, another grin tugging at his cheeks. Hang on… Is Keith...getting something out of this?

**i mean most recently no**

_why_

**u fucked urself in the shirt i so kindly let u borrow and then showed everyone so like**

**idk doesnt seem like good boy material to me**

He’s not sure he’s doing this right. Doesn’t even 100% know if Keith is actually into this whole thing on the other side, but… Just in case he is…

_you arent actually mad i did that right?_

Lance frowns, his sip of coffee aborted to devote his full attention to the task at hand.

**wait seriously?**

_seriously_

**what**

**fuck no that was the sexiest shit ever**

Too much time goes by. Has him feeling the heat. Gets his fingers to type for him.

**id buy u 3000 butt plug tails if i had the $$$**

A small joke. To get things back on track on this fine autumn day.

_jesus_

It works.

_it’s a good thing youre hot_

 

* * *

 

So speaking of videos...more specifically, _Snapchat_ videos...a couple weekends have come and gone with nary an update to k-baby’s story. Not even one.

It doesn’t matter to Lance in terms of money - it’s never lost on him how very spoiled he is to still be on the receiving end without having to spend a single penny, it’s just…

Keith…

He’s… Well, he’s not hooking up with anyone.

Or if he is, he’s not filming it and putting it out. But why would he do that? If he’s going out to fuck around and get content, then why would he not?

And yeah, okay, _technically_ he didn’t film his and Lance’s deal but Lance kinda...feels like that doesn’t count. Somehow. For some reason. Don’t ask him why, because he doesn’t know, but-...

Look, Keith may be putting up jerk off videos on Tumblr but he’s not fucking anyone. Is Lance’s point.

That’s all, okay?

He’s just making an observation.

 

* * *

 

Alright he’s not just making an observation.

He’s reading into shit.

He’s overthinking.

He’s drawing conclusions out of nothing and adding things up to get outcomes that suit him and he-

He wants to see Keith again.

Really. _Really._ Fucking badly.

It hasn’t even been a full month but he’s got this aggravating little voice nagging in the back of his head about Keith and Fall Break and possible upcoming missed opportunities and he just-... _fuck_ he’s just gonna go for it.

**hey man so huuuuuuuuge long shot here but. im on break in a couple weeks and dont have anything to do and was wondering about maybe comin up by u? like to chill for a couple days if u dont got anything goin on. but i know ur busy and itd be inconvinient bc we both know im broke so id have to crash with u which is annoying so like. idk just thinkin about it. ur prob busy tho.**

Send.

Fuck.

F-... _woooooo fuck._

Alright it’s sent there’s nothing he can do about it now.

It’s in God’s hands.

 

* * *

 

Hm that was stupid.

He shouldn’t have done that.

 

* * *

 

Enough days go by for Lance to start becoming paranoid. (Two. Two days.) But he’s not going to vocalize said paranoia because then he’ll sound even more stupid.

So.

My, how the leaves have changed colors so quickly.

Certainly is a temperature outside today.

Fall Break is most definitely on approach, isn’t that so totally-

_you really wanna hang out with me?_

It’s a response. Finally. After all this time. (Two. Two days.)

**not if thats weird**

**thats weird isnt it**

_a little_

Lance taps his fingers on his thighs, gaze gone out the window so he doesn’t have to focus on whatever his chest is doing.

_im free after tuesday_

Free-... After Tuesday…

Wait - Lance grabs his phone off the table - free after Tuesday.

Keith’s up for it?

**u dont mind me crashing?**

_if you dont mind dumptruck noises at 5am_

Oh-...oh man, what’s this crazy vibrating working its way through Lance?

**im a very deep sleeper**

He can’t help the grin that’s bubbling up. The vibration hitting under his rib cage.

Especially when Keith says it.

_hopefully not too deep_

God… This shit is really gonna happen. _So_ worth the long wait for his response. (Two. Two days.)

 

* * *

 

Those couple of weeks fly by like nobody’s business.

Lance makes sure to get all his work done and sees Hunk and Shay off on their grand meet-the-parents trip and throws some stuff in a bag and then he’s on his way Wednesday evening. Cruising. (Speeding.) Hitting the highway as the sun begins to set and unapologetically fueled by a flavor of adrenaline that only pumps through him at times like these. Times like this. Times like right before Keith had walked through the door at the bar.

It keeps his foot on the gas. Keeps his eyes forward. Has him flying high and embarrassingly ahead of schedule because there’s virtually no traffic to speak of on the highway like he assumed there would be going into the city.

So he stops at a pizza place on the way - gets back to his car with the box just before his street meter runs out - and then he’s back on the road for the last five minutes of his drive that flash before his very eyes. He doesn’t even remember driving it, to be honest. Which is more than a little startling because he has no idea where he’s going and yet.

And _yet._

Here he is.

Spotting the black folding chair waiting in the one empty space of street parking for him as planned.  

It slides easily into his back seat for safe keeping. And then he’s parked. And he’s buzzing. And he’s grabbing his duffel bag and the pizza box and he’s sauntering up to the apartment with the right address on its door and knocking and he’s-

He’s-...

Oh no, wait, what’s his pulse doing?

Whoa, hang on-

The door opens without mercy. But Lance is quick enough to slap a smile on his face - not even fake now with the way his body lights up with that good anticipation the very _second_ he sees Keith in front of him.

“Hey!” He gets to be the first one to say it this time, smile absolutely genuine and that rush flooding over him and Keith is-...  _God,_ Keith is so cute, that shit’s never gonna get old, is it. “Pizza delivery.”

He holds the box up a little and steps into the apartment when given space and it all kinda happens quickly again - his shoes off and his attention zeroed in as he steps over to the island counter in the kitchen to put the pizza down like he’s been here a thousand times.

It’s when he realizes he’s the only one speaking. The only one being obnoxious.

It’s also when he recognizes that very specific sensation of being watched by a certain someone.

Lance turns, pizza forgotten as he catches Keith’s eyes. The ones staring at him. Taking him in, still lingering by the door.

“...you good?” He has to ask. Has to grin.

Especially when his voice seems to flip a switch in Keith’s head, his gaze broken as he blinks and then pushes them to land on anything else with a forced little, “What-yeah…” all in one breath.

It’s...really fucking cute, actually.

And it only lasts a second, the boy in front of him now apparently getting with the program and starting to move again. “You can uh-... Just throw your bag wherever.” Even if it’s still a little stiff.

But Lance is very familiar with the feeling so he lets it slide without a single mention, “Thanks,” walking over to the couch in the living room to do just that, as well as actually start to take in his surroundings. “Place is super nice, man.”

It’s not exactly spacious but the layout is cool - attached kitchen and living room - high ceilings - a big window by the couch that looks out onto some sort of green space between the apartment complexes. It’s definitely fancier than Lance’s place. But that’s not really a tall order to fill, if he’s being honest.

“You been here long?”

“Couple years.”

“Nice, I like it.”

“Thanks.”

The floors are that telltale kind of good-n-creaky as Lance makes his way back over to the tile in the kitchen, meaning this place has been standing for _far_ longer than those two years. But it’s cool. It’s exciting, kinda. Almost as exciting as when Keith joins him over by the pizza box for the cheesy reveal.

They eat standing up.

At the island.

Don’t use plates - and Lance doesn’t even realize it because he does this shit consistently when he’s too riled up to sit down at home. And there’s absolutely no hiding the adrenaline still pumping through his body like nobody’s business even as they just stand there and chill.

Lance does most of the talking but that should surprise exactly no one. He talks about the drive over. His navigation of the city. How surprised he is about all the old trees everywhere - especially flanking the streets. He talks about it all and then some. Doesn’t really keep track. Just knows that his mouth is running a mile a minute and he lost the reins about half an hour ago and that’s why he ends up saying it when he probably shouldn’t.

“So what’s the deal - you not meeting up with anyone recently or…?”

It catches Keith right in the middle of taking a slice, the pizza too cool to do a cheese-pull out of the box, but not mattering because he’s halting for a second anyway.

But just the one.

“Meeting up...?” He’s echoing the question. In his head as he stares at the slice of pizza now brought over to himself. Then: “Oh yeah, uh… Got a quick one tomorrow but-... Just been like...taking a little time for myself...”

Lance nods, already more than aware of the fact that it continues to be none of his business in the first place. “Yeah, cool. You deserve that shit, you know?”

“What.”

“Some downtime?” he rests his elbows on the counter, tilting his head up to keep the eye contact. “Especially after _my_ dramatic ass a few weekends ago.”

The little smile at the corner of Keith’s mouth is unexpected as he goes back to looking down at the slice in his hands. Unexpected and...cute?

“We were both dramatic.”

Lance huffs a laugh, “I guess.”

“Like... _melodramatic.”_

“Soap opera dramatic.”

 _“The Notebook_ dramatic.”

Lance laughs at that one, chest light but pulled forward at the sight of Keith doing the same - those big, pretty eyes sparkling at him from across the counter and the soft but higher pitched hum of a chuckle pulling even further.

It’s…

It’s the first time Lance has heard him laugh.

Like for real. A legitimate laugh.

And wow, um…

Yeah. ...that’s-

“I was gonna take some pictures tonight.” Keith’s talking again. Settling back even.

Lance forces himself to keep up with the topic change. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I could use a hand if you’re up for it.”

Up for it. “Like, you need a hype man? Because I can be your hype man.”

Keith’s eyes are narrowing, “No-”

“I’ll hype the the shit outta you-”

“I meant more like a cameraman.”

“Oh!” Lance’s smile is easy. Slips as it connects. “Oh.” Levels as it dawns on him. “... _oh.”_

Keith watches it all from his spot, clearly trying to sort through the fifty emotions and unintentional social cues that just got thrown his way. “You...alright with that, or-”

“No yeah.” Lance has gotta get it together. Has to feign calm even as the proposition sinks in fully. “Yeah I c-... Yeah.”

No big deal. He just gets to help take sexy bottom pics of his favorite sexy bottom - absolutely not a big deal at all.

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Cool.

Totally one hundred percent cool.

 

_ _ _

 

So… In retrospect, everyone all nice and showered and the sun fully set, Lance is realizing that this might be more of an ‘eighty percent cool’ situation. Because he’s tucking his shampoo back into his bag in the living room when he hears the confident “Ready when you are…” which is enough on its own to get his adrenaline pumping.

And then he actually steps into Keith’s bedroom - into an entirely different world - everything morphing warmly around him as he sees.

 _“Ohh-...my god...”_ It’s like a prayer muttered under his breath but he keeps it there. Keeps it contained. Presses forward regardless of how his body lights up in interested anticipation at the sight of Keith sitting there on his knees at the foot of his bed.

His attention is drawn to the playlist on his phone. It gives Lance a few free moments to soak it all in - the mood lighting - the smell of his cologne lingering in his room - the very very _tight_ black briefs that already make his ass look criminally touchable and he’s not even posing yet.

Oh yeah. This is definitely more of a ‘seventy percent cool’ situation.

“Here.”

Lance zones back in at the familiar melody of The Neighbourhood and the phone being held out for him, screen dimmer now that the camera is pulled up.

And Lance may be majoring in Environmental Studies, but he’s also got a cool minor in Faking Like His Shit’s Together. So he presses forward again. Takes the phone out of Keith’s hand and pretends like he’s not already getting hot and bothered. Makes his way over to the foot of the bed and _commits._

“Any instructions for your adoring cameraman?”

He says it through a smile, lining up Keith’s phone with where he starts to move on the bed, his back to Lance and most valuable asset shifting perfectly into view as he pops his ass out and says it, thighs spread, “Take whatever you want…”

It’s the perfect shot. The perfect innuendo. Has Lance sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and biting so he doesn’t say exactly what he _wants_ to say in return.

Because he’s been given a job right now. And even if it’s drastically sexier than any other job he’s been given in his short lifetime, he’s gonna fucking follow through. Especially since it’s for K’s livelihood.

Lance’s thumb taps the circle probably too quickly. Uses the camera to capture different angles. Has to bite his tongue when Keith stretches forward, his head cradled gently in his arms and back muscles tensing prettily from the stretch.

He has to get it - has to step closer and bring the phone in so he can catch the smooth downward angle of his back, making sure to keep Keith’s face out of the shot but definitely showcasing how cute his butt looks presented like this.

“Mm…” Keith’s stretching his arms out, feeling the pull at the head of the bed, “How’s it lookin’...”

And fuck, how is Lance supposed to summon up the right words to describe just exactly _how_ amazing he looks? “Ugh… So fucking hot…”

Alright. Yeah, his answer may be a little intense, but it’s certainly pulling a satisfied grin from Keith up there. And _oh...the self control Lance has to maintain as that cute ass sways a little in his face while Keith gathers himself back to his knees…_

There’s no way that wasn’t on purpose.

“How do you feel about your hand being in a few…”

Lance’s eyebrows raise on their own accord, accompanied by the little surge of delighted interest because- “Y-... Yeah. Yes.” Is that a real question? “I’m good with that - yes.”

(‘Sixty percent cool’ situation but who cares at this point.)

Lance is already itching to touch - fingers tingling - and then Keith’s unexpectedly reaching back, his hand warm as it settles over Lance’s and guides it forward until he’s got a nice palm-full of that ass and _fuck, this is the best job ever._

“Take a few like that…”

Lance nods in agreement, unable to make words work at the moment because he’s a little too focused on stopping himself from squeezing - from giving a good jiggle and watching Keith’s ass bounce under his hand.

Focus.

Fucking focus, Lance.

_Click… Click…_

The photos fly to the bottom corner of the screen and store away for safe-keeping, and Lance swears to _god_ he tries to stop himself but the urge to squeeze is too tempting and he is just one poor dude.

But damn does it feel good under his hand, the fabric of the briefs super soft but nowhere near as soft as his skin, he-

Lance glances up to the eyes that have locked onto his from over Keith’s shoulder.

Damn. Of course he’s been caught.

“My bad,” he offers a slightly sheepish smile, then gives Keith’s butt a couple pats of apology.

But: “If you’re gonna do that, do it hard.”

It’s... ...he-... “...what?”

“Do it hard,” Keith repeats himself, so casual it’s almost frightening. “It looks better in photos when you grab hard.”

...Lance lets out a _“huh…”_ of pleasant surprise. Like...surprise from that new knowledge, and...surprise that he still gets to grab Keith’s ass. Because _hell yeah._

The song on the playlist switches over to something off Wiped Out just as he adjusts his hand, pressing a little tighter with the pads of his fingers and mesmerized by how the shadows filling the dips they leave into Keith’s ass truly make the photo that much better.

Huh.

It’s like he makes a living off this or something.

 

_ _ _

 

Lance doesn’t try anything.

Trust and believe it takes every fiber of self control in his body, but he doesn’t try anything. Because that’s not what that was.

At least…

He doesn’t think so…

 

_ _ _

 

The moonlight dances in through the living room window as Lance finally stretches out on the couch for the night.

It’s been a long day. Mentally. His energy has been spiked and forced to chill more times today than he can count, and he knows as soon as his head hits the pillow he’s gonna be gone.

Or at least, that’s the plan. It’s just…

“Need anything…?”

Lance’s head pops up, ready to answer that he’s good to go when he spots Keith moving from the opening of the hallway to the kitchen, still in his briefs and his skin just as pretty in the moonlight as it was that night they finally slept together.

“Uh…” he kickstarts his brain again. “Nah I think I’m all set out here.”

The sounds of Keith moving in the kitchen are all he has to go off of, the couch blocking his view now. “...‘kay.” He’s pouring water or something. Or wine. Is he pouring wine? Is he trying to- “If you do though,” Lance focuses on the filled water bottle in his hand as he reemerges, turning to him fully to say it, “lemme know.”

He’s waiting.

For...him?

For an answer?

Lance nods, forcing himself not to eye Keith up and down like a gross high schooler so late at night - forcing himself to respond. “Gotchya.”

Ugh.

It might be the way the light’s hitting him, but there’s almost positively a little sparkle in his eye at that as a tiny smile rests on his lips. And then, after one more beat of silence, Keith turns, “Night,” his figure disappearing into the dark hallway and leaving Lance to watch after him.

“...night...”

 

_ _ _

 

Was he…

That wasn’t... _anything..._ right?

Or was it.

Lance stuffs his face into his pillow and closes his eyes.

It wasn’t. He needs to stop thinking with this dick.

 

* * *

 

Keith’s not there when he wakes up.

Apparently ‘disappearing the morning after’ is something he likes to do even in his own home.

But it’s okay. Lance just takes the time to chill and get in touch with Hunk to see how his break with Shay is going. He’s absolutely living for the downtime after the pure hellfire that’s been going on this semester, and honestly it doesn’t matter where he may be while doing it.

And anyway, it’s not too long before there’s a curt knock on Keith’s front door, pulling Lance from his very self-indulgent late-morning nap.

The floor creaks beneath his feet as he pads over to the doorway, suppressing the urge to fondly roll his eyes at the concept of Keith forgetting his own keys in the process of...whatever his magnificent adventure happens to be this morning.

It’s okay, he decides, sliding the lock undone and then opening the door, something sarcastic and maybe even a little rude on the tip of his tongue until he realizes that the person on the other side of the door is _not_ Keith, but in fact someone much taller, his attention fallen distractedly into the cardboard box in his arm as he steps forward.

“Take a look at these. I dunno if y- _oh.”_ All it takes is one glance up. One second to realize and stop moving. And then another, eyes narrowing just the slightest as he says it. “You’re...not Keith.”

Lance blinks, suddenly hyper-aware of himself and how he must look opening someone else’s door. “Uh.” Holy fuck, this guy is super jacked. Oh god, he’s not gonna beat the shit outta him for home intrusion is he? “You got me! Definitely not him.”

Yeah he’s gonna get punched.

“Is-... Wait,” the watch on his wrist is no good when his arm’s occupied by the box, “What time is it?”

Lance scrambles for his phone. Realizes it’s still on the couch from his nap. Dips in to see the clock on the microwave in the kitchen and for some god forsaken reason shouts “11:20!” on his way back but _oh Jesus okay, no need to shout - dude’s just helped himself in and is setting the box down in the living room okay cool cool._

“I’ll just wait.”

Lance’s smile is too big and he knows it. “Awesome.”

 

\- - -

 

The living room is dead silent.

Lance sitting stiffly on the couch.

Mystery man taking up the chair across from him.

He keeps looking at Lance’s overnight bag. Doesn’t speak, but eyes all of Lance’s shit.

It’s only been about ten minutes but it feels like Lance has grown old here and will soon pass on, the only conversation starters that come to his brain completely useless.

Because who _is_ this guy? He might not have a mean face but...those muscles, man. They reach to where his right sleeve is pinned up to his shoulder. Span his entire chest. He could probably lift Lance above his head without trying. (Could probably lift Lance _and_ this whole fucking couch above his head without trying.)

And he certainly seems comfy in here. _Almost_ territorial.

“So. _How_ again do you know Keith?”

Lance schools his face, leaning back in an attempt to shake off the awkwardness. “We’re friends.”

“From where.”

From where.

Ahaha, from where.

The little spike of adrenaline in Lance’s chest is one he’s familiar with - the quick panic to make shit up and make it up _now -_ “We-... Uh...” Because what’s he gonna say? _Yeah I saw his ass on Tumblr and totally have a huge hard-on for him?_ “...met at a-”

The click of the front door pushing open has Lance’s soul weeping with joy. Saved! He’s saved.

And now he has a chance to actually come up with something good because Keith’s shrugging out of his jacket, his sweater actually really nice but that’s not the point because the point is he’s-...yep...he’s freezing as he sees the two pairs of eyes looking back at him.

It’s his turn.

His gaze flicks back and forth between them, arms finally lowering as he slowly hangs up his jacket on the hook without looking. “Hello.”

“Hello,” says the mystery man. And Lance has no idea what that kind of smile means, but Keith certainly seems to.

“You’re...here early.”

“Didn’t mean to be,” he answers, and then lets his attention fall back onto Lance. “Your friend let me in.”

Oo… Oo that is a _scary_ look to be under.

Keith presses forward, clearly feeling the energy in the room. And now it’s Lance who’s got the two pairs of eyes on him. “This is Shiro.” It’s an unenthusiastic introduction. “Shiro, this is Lance.”

And oh...what does _that_ look in Shiro’s eyes mean.

Holy shit - it’s paired with subtly raised eyebrows, his posture leaning forward just the slightest like he’s just learned something. “Interesting-”

“You have the stuff, right?” Keith’s cutting him off before he can begin - before Lance can get enough to speculate.

Unfortunately, Shiro seems willing to move along, even through the indistinct but noticeable change in his carry. “Yeah.” The box doesn’t seem all that heavy anymore as he pulls it across the floor. “Just take whatever.” But then again, Lance still can’t see inside.

What could it be-

“‘Kay thanks, I’ll text you later.” Holy shit Keith’s putting his hands on this dude - he’s directing him up and away by the arm - holy shit is that a good idea?

Apparently it is. Apparently Keith’s either fucking fearless or a lion tamer or _something,_ because Shiro doesn’t look happy but he’s going with it - just...letting himself be dragged away and to the front door and-

_Slam!_

Lance blinks.

Waits.

Finds himself once again sitting stiffly on this couch, now alone.

He can hear talking outside - a conversation that he’s obviously not supposed to be a part of. But that’s fine, he won’t eavesdrop. Even if he really wants to. Even if... _he really wants to,_ wow there’s so much going on here that he completely lost t-

His gaze snags on the box left on the floor.

Open... Waiting... For some curious boy who’s left to his own devices to peek into if he so chooses...

Lance glances at the front door, their voices still muffled behind it. Glances at the box. Glances at the door. At the box.

Okay fuck it.

The couch squeaks as he pushes off it, interest piqued and hands balled into fists so he doesn’t touch - just looks - just peeks over the top of the box and lets his curious eyes scan the contents as quickly as possible.

Everything is piled in so it’s hard to make some things out without moving it. Lots of plastic. Something long and green. A… A bowl? And is that-…

Lance’s gaze flicks up in thought, brain working in the silence now that their voices have disappeared.

...wait. _Oh fuck, their voices have disappeared._

Creaky creaky creaky floors - and he _just_ sticks his bouncy landing back on the couch by the time the front door pushes open again, Keith’s attention fixed elsewhere for a moment before falling on his guest’s casual lounging.

“That was fun,” Lance smiles innocently.

His sarcasm reaches and lands, pulling an eye roll from Keith as he sighs and then plops onto the other side of the couch, his head tilted back and eyes closed. “Sorry.”

“S’all good.”

A beat. Then: “You smoke?”

“What, pot?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Great.”

And that’s that.

 

\- - -

 

Lance can’t remember what he was stressing out about.

Everything’s nice and easy and pleasant now actually, both of them stretched with their backs against their respective arm rests.

For once, Keith looks so at peace in front of him, eyelids heavy but no longer in the way that he seems exhausted. Just...content, now. Comfortable.

Even with the clock ticking on.

“Gotta get ready soon…?”

It’s not the first time Lance has asked it. Not because he wants Keith to leave. Not because he wants Keith to go meet up with this guy. It’s just been on Lance’s mind since he said it yesterday. Another meetup. Quick or not.

But...

“Mm…” is Keith’s response. Non-committal. Gaze hazy and warm and body planted firmly right where he intends it to be.

There’s something about it that has Lance’s chest floating. Because if Keith’s smoking then he’s definitely not making moves to leave any time soon.

And Lance is just fine with that. Especially if it means he stays here. On the other end of the couch. Pretty in the sunlight. “Thought Shiro was gonna wreck my shit today…”

Eyes rolling closed in dismissal. “He’s a puffball…”

It pulls a laugh from Lance’s belly. “Yeah okay…” The thought of it. _That_ guy... “Shoulda seen him starin’ me down before you got here...”

The couch is plush beneath where they stretch their arms along the back of it. “Mm…” Lance doesn’t know when their fingers started to nudge together but it’s strangely therapeutic. “Just protective.”

“Known him long?”

“Mhm…”

Lance nods, room dragging pleasantly as he lets his eyes fall back to where his fingertips have settled lightly over Keith’s upturned ones...the pads of their fingers pressing ever so slightly...one by one...like piano keys…

“He know about your blog...?”

The silence that follows is heavy…

Weighted…

“Not yet…”

It’s a question Lance shouldn’t have asked. Has no place _to_ ask. He’s been too good at not minding his own business lately. “Shutting up now.”

“No,” that gaze has rested over him again when he looks up... “Don’t shut up.” ...the sun pulling colors from his eyes that Lance hasn’t noticed before. Still so glossy and pretty. “I like hearing you talk.”

His words work over his brain and settle refreshingly - have a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Then should I remind you you’re supposed to be leaving…?”

The numbers in the kitchen say so. But Keith’s not looking at them. Not looking at anything but Lance, resolved. “I know.”

Their fingers play slowly together between them, background to the grins unable to be held off as they start to bloom on both their faces.

“Terrible business practice,” Lance teases quietly.

Keith’s fingertips press up against his, his voice dropping into a convinced whisper. “He’ll be fine.”

The rush of endorphins that washes over Lance’s body is sorely welcomed. Embraced. Held tight and making room for more as Keith speaks again, no longer in a whisper.

“You should take your shirt off.”

Because Lance is chuckling, brows etched together in confusion - “What.” - but undeniably already on board.

And Keith’s reasoning _is_ sound, “S’only fair…” Lance _does_ do an awful lot of looking at him without his shirt on. It’s almost like it’s what got him here in the first place or something.

So, “Guess I can’t argue with that,” he supposes, hand slipping away and room dragging to keep up when he stands, under Keith’s relentless gaze as he pulls his shirt up and over his head.

It’s another kind of rush. Warm and tingling. Amusing as he breaks up that stare by gently tossing his shirt at his face.

Keith’s smirking lightly when he pulls it down - keeps it in his lap but goes right back to staring - staring and, “You know… I take my pants off for you people too…”

Lance’s hands find his hips. “M’not wearing anything under.”

But this doesn’t seem to bother Keith in the absolute slightest, his brows raising coolly as he rolls off a nonchalant shrug.

And oh… Lance loves this flirty side of him so much. _So much._ So much that he doesn’t even feel embarrassed when he does it, attention lowered to the drawstring of his sweats as he unties it and then eases them down, pants toed completely off and unashamed in his nakedness as he stands there in front of Keith.

Because he fuels him - those heavy lidded eyes slowly taking him in with appreciation as Lance stands, hands held out in front of himself in a half-assed sort of _ta-daaa._

“Happy?”

Not that Keith even needs to answer, the not so subtle way he wets his lips during the full head-to-toe admiration saying more than he ever could, but: “Happy.”

And that’s all Lance wants.

He can’t help but let out a contented sigh as he collapses back onto the couch, arms stretched over the top of it again and knee bent and brought down to lay between them.

It’s...surprisingly comfortable.

Very very freeing.

Something he’s realizing he’s never done on his own for some reason.

That’s gotta change.

“So this is what it’s like to be ogled.”

Keith doesn’t give a single fuck. “Mhm.”

“Kinda like it.”

He smirks, eyes still trailing over Lance’s bare skin while they sit here. “Bet you get checked out more than you realize.”

It heats Lance from the inside out. The blatant appraisal. The fact that it’s coming from _Keith._ And he maybe...kinda wants to savor the moment - wants to let it stretch out - wants to indulge in the feeling of Keith’s eyes raking over his body...slow but hungry...hand still nestled into Lance’s shirt in his lap.

A delicious role reversal.

“You didn’t come in last night.”

Lance lets his attention drop off, the confirmation stinging a little.

He should’ve gone with his gut. “So that _was_ what that was.”

Except the sting doesn’t have time to linger, because the couch is dipping under Keith’s movement, another wave of warm adrenaline sinking in Lance’s chest as his weight comes to settle over him in his lap.

And he’s not smirking anymore, but he’s still got his full attention on him, fingers coming up to slip over the curve of Lance’s shoulders when he says it. “That’s _always_ what it is.”

Lance swallows, the shift in closeness enough to leave his pulse heavy in his eardrums. “...noted.”

The sleeves of Keith’s sweater are as soft as they look as they press against Lance’s bare chest, his hands feeling like they had that first night. When they first touched. Lance wants to say he’s got himself more under control this time, but Keith’s clothes are velvety against his bare skin as he moves on top of him.

As he slides his hands up the sides of his neck. “...you’re too nice for your own good...”

Lance’s eyes flutter closed, the haze in his system keeping him considerably calmer than he could be right now. “Being nice is cool.”

He can hear the little huff of a laugh from the boy in his lap. And it’s the only thing he gets before his weight is moving - sliding off and coming to settle on the floor, too good to not take a peek at as Keith looks up at him between his legs. “Don’t have to be nice _all_ the time…”

And then Lance’s eyes are fluttering closed again - breath unrushed but heavy as it escapes him because…

“Hhhhuh-god…” He’s so glad he’s stoned. So glad the only nerves popping in his system are the sudden pleasing ones, heat rushing up his body as Keith wraps his warm mouth around him and starts an easy tempo.

Because this is something he’s thought about too many times to count - _what it would feel like getting blown by K_ \- and now he’s here, in his apartment, relaxed and naked and he doesn’t have to wonder about it anymore.

Keith’s head bobs between his thighs, slow but consistent, cheeks hollowing as he sucks to the tip.

It’s truly a sight to see, tingles of heated pleasure dancing up Lance’s body as he glances down just in time to watch the slick _pop_ off, Keith’s gaze hazed over but charming as he takes his time swirling his tongue around the head of Lance’s cock, a playful flick from the tip setting those heated tingles off all over again.

Lance groans softly... Tips his head backward to rest against the back of the couch… Wonders how guys manage to get this from K all the time and not lose their fucking minds from it...

Because he’s already getting close. He can feel his abs tensing with every upstroke of Keith’s hand beneath the wet heat of his mouth. And he may not be in the running for Longest Lasting but he doesn’t care - which he should - which he does - always wanting to impress this legend of a guy but-

“Feels good…” head still tipped back, “...gettin’ close…”

He doesn’t care.

And Keith doesn’t seem like he cares. Because he’s starting to pick up speed. Just the slightest. Just enough to have the heat curling low in Lance’s stomach and pulling and…

And…

He opens his mouth to warn, but there’s nothing - just the surprisingly smooth wave of energy that washes over him - his hips rolling up to meet the crest and lips parting and Keith’s mouth stays loyal - gently coaxes him through the waves...and...

Lance’s eyes open toward the ceiling - mind a little blown, if he’s going to be perfectly honest. Because...um... _wow._ “That was...weirdly chill.”

He may be a little breathy but all that does is prove his point. Makes him roll his head back up to meet the soft little half-smile that Keith’s sporting between his legs.

“Like-...I’m not kidding. That was the chillest orgasm I’ve ever had in my life...”

Keith huffs a little laugh, something glistening in those big pretty eyes as he rests his cheek against the inside of Lance’s thigh, still looking up at him. “Let’s get dinner.”

 

* * *

 

Driving in the city at night is way different than driving in the city during the day but Lance insists on it. Insists on paying for parking when he finds it. Insists that it’s totally okay that the restaurant is so fucking loud.

It’s loud because it’s busy. And it’s busy because it’s quaint. And Lance is so in love with the colored lights strung cozily above the booths that he kind of wants to stay here forever.

And anyway, Keith seems content too, no longer riding off the tranquility from their high, but most likely sapping the warm energy from the dim lights around them.

It takes a long time for someone to come take their order but it hardly matters. Lance will gladly sit here and take in the ambiance. And the way he can hear snippets of other people’s conversations but has to lean in a little to hear Keith when he speaks. Or...more so...when he answers Lance’s questions. Because for some reason Lance can’t shut up.

“So what’s it gonna be? Cat or dog.”

His brows pinch in guarded confusion.

But Lance knows he can’t keep his curiosity at bay any longer. “That box of stuff your friend brought over. You’re gonna be a daddy, huh.”

Regrettably, not the best way he could’ve phrased it, especially with the way Keith’s nose scrunches a little at the terminology. But, “I...think so.”

And Lance is just gonna roll with it - never one to let his own mouth stop him. “Fun! Dog? Cat?”

“I uh…” a group passes their booth to snag a table toward the back, “...it depends on-” their voices overpowering the rest of Keith’s answer. He must be self-aware because he pauses - waits for them as they continue to pass - has this...strange...half-a-second moment where his attention snags on the second to last guy, then drops it so he can scan the pattern on the table.

It’s split second but Lance catches it.

...waits.

Watches the group of people take their seats and then he’s back to Keith. “...youuu alright?”

It seems like something he shouldn’t ask.

But - “Yeah.” - he’s grabbing his water - “What was the question?”

Lance nods.

Okay. That’s fine. He can let it go if Keith’s letting it go. “I was askin’ if you have any fur children in mind yet.”

It seems to be enough to get him back on track, his glass sliding along the table as he drags it through the water ring. “I went to a shelter…”

“Nice!” A shelter! “Gotta love rescues.”

“Mm.”

“Bet you got snagged by someone’s super sad _‘take me home’_ eyes.”

The corner of Keith’s mouth quirks but it doesn’t reach any further. “Not yet.”

And Lance guesses he can understand that. It’s a big step - welcoming another living being into your home. It’s natural for Keith to be a little apprehensive about it - a little anxious. Unless…

Unless that’s not what he’s anxious about.

“Be right back,” he murmurs, but Lance _just_ catches it, not even able to pop off anything in response before Keith is twisting out of the booth and making his way toward the bathroom.

He tells himself not to watch after him.

Tells himself to mind his own fucking business. Drink some water. Take a snap of the table pattern again - get the Cookie Monster made out of blue Froot Loops this time.

Just whatever he has to do to mind his business and be respectful except-

Except when he glances up - when he can’t help himself - Keith’s still in the little alcove to the bathrooms. And he’s not alone.

Lance looks away. Busies his hands with his straw wrapper. _Can’t fucking help himself_ and flicks his attention right back to where Keith is speaking across the room, mouth moving with silent words, all directed at the guy who’s got him occupied in the shadowed alcove. The guy that walked past their table.

It’s...not a pleasant conversation. This much is clear. At least for Keith - because he may not have the widest range of facial expression, but Lance can see his frown of annoyance from here. At the guy. At whatever the guy is _saying._ Or...asking him?

Ugh...to be able to hear...

It’s the mystery box all over again. But this time, Lance has a feeling he’s not gonna get the opportunity to peek inside.

Even if he might actually have a pretty good idea what he’ll see if he does.

A swell of laughter from the table behind him has Lance getting with the program. Has him focusing back down at the Cookie Monster as Keith goes on the move in his peripherals. Just once more he'll remind himself of the things that are and aren’t for him to nose into.

What kind of animal Keith’s planning on adopting?

Safe.

Questions about the guy that is almost definitely one of Keith’s regular hookups?

Lance is gonna stay high and dry from that one.

And anyway, Keith doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for many more questions, the edge to his carry as he seats himself across from Lance without a word definitely making that clear.

But look. If there’s one thing Lance is known to be a master at, it’s distracting conversation. This has already been established during that first fateful Skype call between the two of them. So…

“My buddy Hunk rescued his rott from a no-kill place. Cutest baby to ever slobber on ya.” He’s already pulling his phone back out, at the ready. “Wanna see?”

It may not be a complete success yet, but Keith’s nodding on the other side of the table - even murmurs a quiet: “Can I come by you?”

And oh, what kind of _silly question…_ “Yeah - for sure.”

The booth seat bounces a bit as he climbs out, making room for Keith to slide on in and get comfy before Lance sits back down.

They’re much closer like this, but that’s the point. This way Lance can hold his phone between them and flick through his screenshots folder to find the snaps he saved from Hunk.

“Ah, here we go,” he grins, the screen settling on that big goofy face he loves so much. “So this is Honey... She’s... ...three? I think?”

Keith’s face lights up over his phone, eyes taking in her majesty. “She’s gigantic.”

“Yes,” Lance laughs. “Lotta her to love.” He skims through more pictures - most of them not dog related and his life flashing before his very eyes as the screenshot of Keith naked from the waist down in Lance’s Lions longsleeve makes an appearance and- “Oo moving along moving along…”

It gets one of those cute short laugh-exhales from Keith’s nose, his posture relaxing a bit more. It could be an accident that their knees knock under the table. Or it couldn’t. Either way.

“Oh- here’s another one.” His finger stalls again. A snap Lance had pulled from Hunk’s story - Honey all stretched out over the couch, and…

“Is that... _you_ under there…?”

“Mhm.”

“How the fuck were you breathing.”

Lance scoffs. “Who cares about breathing when it’s for love.”

Another group passes. Another swell of laughter.

Nothing from the boy next to him so Lance chances a glance over but when he does...Keith’s...

He’s already looking at him...brows furrowed just a touch...eyes taking in his face...Lance’s nerves swirling suddenly as they drop to his lips.

He… Uh… “Y’alright…?”

His voice shakes him. Has him turning his head back to face forward, but only so he can get prop his elbows on the table and bury his face in his hands with a long, drawn out breath.

Oh. That’s...

Lance’s phone dims without him realizing it. He’s far too concerned with... _whatever’s happening._ “What-...” his pulse picking up a bit, “what’s wrong?”

Because Keith is sitting here, fingers rubbing at his eyes in distress but Lance can’t figure out what _kind._ If it’s embarrassment or frustration or anger. But it looks like it’s been a long time coming and...

And…

“I have a problem.”

He’s quiet again. Quiet even though he’s so much closer now. Even though he’s literally right next to Lance, nearly pressed to him in the tiny booth.

And Lance just-... “What?” Just wants to... “What is it…”

The rise in noise doesn’t help - the clinking of forks against plates behind them. But for once, when Keith groans it into his hands, Lance can hear it. Easily. “I really like you…”

It...sends his heart into an instant, almost embarrassing flutter in his chest. Sends heat to his ears. Tingles to the tips of his fingers.

Keith likes him.

“And…” speaking is rough when his heart is taking off into the atmosphere, “... _why_ is that a problem?”

Keith’s groaning one more time and it’d almost be funny if it wasn’t clearly causing him grief when he says it. “Because I know you like _me.”_

And - Lance blinks, “Still-...” chuckle a little forced because, “Still lookin’ for the problem here…”

“Because you’re-... I don’t-...” Keith sighs again, his hands dropping from his face to fall to the table in defeat, tone clear in its displeasure. “I don’t want you to go.”

He won’t look at him.

Won’t look at Lance.

Won’t look at anything but the empty space where he had been sitting before.

It’s painfully obvious just how difficult this is for him to be saying - how unhappy he is to have to share, but also the relief that’s coming with doing so.

It plucks at Lance’s heart like none other - has his fingers itching to reach out and touch him.

But Keith’s already on the brink here. Ready to tip over any second.

And Lance would rather write three hundred papers on harmful algae bloom than do that to him, so…

“I don’t wanna leave either.” He’s calm with it. Honest. “But we can make it work. ...if...you _wanna_ make it work…?”

There’s another stretch of heavy silence, and for one terrifying minute, Lance is sure their waiter is going to stop at their table and completely obliterate their moment.

But…

Keith nods.

Doesn’t say anything, but nods.

And it’s honestly enough to get Lance’s pulse pumping in his veins all over again.

“Yeah?”

Keith must be able to hear his smile, because Lance can see his own trying to tug at the corner of his mouth as he nods again.

And that’s all he needs. He doesn’t press it. Doesn’t push his luck. He just sits back, ready to pull up more pictures of Honey to help ease Keith back down again as they wait for their food.

They stay on the same side of the table, separating no longer even a thought in their minds.

 

_ _ _

 

On the drive home, Lance finally gives into his urges, his hand on the wheel, the other silently reaching out across the center console.

Waiting...palm up...just to see...

And oh...when he feels those fingers finally lace with his…shy but wanting…

His heart has never so fiercely jumped for joy.

 

_ _ _

 

Keith’s apartment is dark when they finally get home, the sun gone down and the moon once again taking her place in the clouds.

The difference between now and when they left seems to be very prominent in Keith’s mind too, judging off how he moves around his living room without a word, movements _just_ too stiff.

But Lance refuses to let it get to him. Refuses to let it make things weird. If anything, they should be _more_ comfortable around each other now. Nothing looming. Just feelings...shared...  _Shared_ \- Lance is almost giddy off the concept.

The TV flickers as Keith turns it on but keeps it muted, lingering quietly in front of the couch, very much in his own thoughts.

He’s too cute to pass up.

Creaky floors - music to Lance’s ears as he draws close, something warm and full swelling in his chest as Keith’s attention fixes on him.

Because Lance can’t help it anymore. Is pressed in close, just...admiring and bringing his hands up to gently frame both sides of Keith’s face and-

“What’re you doing.”

He’s still - slightly wide-eyed at the touch and Lance...uh…

“I...was gonna _kiss_ you - but now I’m clearly backing off because you don’t seem like you _want_ me to kiss you so-”

“Wait.” He grabs Lance’s wrists before he can fully pull away, eyes glossy and glistening and reflecting the TV’s flicker. “I do.”

Lance can’t look away from them. “...you sure?”

“Yeah-”

“-because we don’t have to if it’s-”

“I want you to kiss me.”

It’s a simple phrase but it has Lance’s chest fluttering again, hands following the pull to keep holding Keith’s face.

And those eyes… Always those pretty fucking eyes… They close as Lance moves forward a breath, hands tilting and head tilting and when he presses his lips to Keith’s for the first time it’s like they’re laying out in the fields again...peeking into the universe...a second galaxy as he pulls away, Keith’s eyes still closed and lips parted...breathless...

Delicate…

When they flutter open, it’s like Lance has kissed him into another cosmos - like he’s unable to focus on anything...except...

Lance’s grin is so fond it hurts. “You’re cute.”

And it’s the last thing he gets to say before it’s tearing Keith right out from his enchantment, his face immediately falling to a frown that is so obviously a pout and he’s stuffing himself down on the couch and...

Honestly, it’s worth it.

“You know you’re just making yourself cuter, right?”

“Shut up.”

Lance spares him the chuckle, instead collapsing onto the couch as well, his arm immediately flung around him and giddy all over again because _it’s happening - they’re actually-...they’re together._

“I’m not gonna be good at this,” Keith mumbles, “Just...letting you know right now.”

Lance lets out a low hum. “I dunno why you’re saying that, but I think you should not be worrying.” Wraps his arm around him tighter and brings them down into a comfortable lounge. “And I think we should both just fucking relax for once.”

Keith grumbles but there’s no denying how the tension in his shoulders slowly starts to dissolve as the time rolls on, their lounging melting more and more cozily.

It’s not until the steady breaths start that Keith finally unwinds completely...eases off...melts into Lance’s chest, his hand coming up to grab loosely at his shirt as he drifts off to sleep, the TV flickering in the background.

It’d be a cute picture, but Lance knows better.

Knows he’s perfectly content as is.

Even with the little puddle of drool starting to dampen his shirt.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ one more chapter left ~


End file.
